Lost Legacies
by AkibaWhite
Summary: Derpy Hooves lives life in two worlds; "reality", where she's nothing more than a clumsy loser with a dead-end job, and "fantasy", where she's anything she wants to be. However, when a severe personal loss motivates her to seek help and leave her delusions behind, she discovers that reality is wreathed in lies, and that the world of her dreams has taken on a life of its own . . .
1. E01: Help Wanted (i & ii)

**[?]**

"This is where we say goodbye."

The warm smile on the face of the gray earth pony mare seemed better suited for a greeting than a farewell. A titanic whirlwind of brilliant blue energy towered behind her, swirling its way up from a black abyss far below to an orb of pale white flame in the night sky. The mare's long sable mane whipped back and forth in the gale-force wind, but her deep violet eyes remained calm and centered on her companion. She let out a sigh that was lost to the howling storm.

"Can you at least wish me a safe journey?"

The pegasus filly that stood before her at the cliff's edge stared straight down, her posture sunken and forlorn. At her back were the plains of emerald grass that they'd long called home and the imposing form of the White Spire, a monstrous tower that rose so high into the air that its top could not be clearly seen from below. Stacks upon stacks of leather-bound books that stood all about swayed to and fro, but the only part of the gray filly that moved was her tousled blonde mane.

As it became increasingly clear that the younger pony would not respond, the elder mare leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. "That's all right," she said with her gentle voice. "I suppose it's not a real goodbye. Take care, Little Sister." She turned about in an elegant motion and walked toward the whirlwind just beyond the precipice.

Seconds later, the pegasus filly rushed forward and latched onto the mare's front-left leg. The action had enough force behind it to stop the earth pony dead in her tracks.

"Derpy?" asked the mare.

"Don't go!" Derpy shouted, her frail boyish voice barely rising above the wind. "I don't want you to go!"

"I'm glad to see you've found your words," said the mare, "but we talked about this." She gently removed her foreleg from Derpy's grip and once again stood before the downcast filly. "The way to the Land Past the Sky is open. We may never get another chance to see it."

"I don't care about that," said Derpy, her gaze never leaving the ground. "Why do you care so much?" She shut her eyes in frustration, forcing a pair of tears down her cheeks. "Did I do something bad? Am I boring? Why do you want to leave me behind?"

The mare reached out a hoof and wiped the tear away. "Derpy, look at me." When the filly did not respond, she placed the hoof under her chin. "Look at me."

Derpy did as she was told, though one of her golden irises disobeyed the command and drifted to the right.

"You know better than that," the mare admonished. "I love you, and I'm coming back for you. I'd take you with me right now if I could." The blue light from the whirlwind danced in her eyes. "You believe me, don't you?"

"Yeah."

A knowing smile played across the mare's lips. She lowered her hoof and touched the amber jewel of a silver necklace draped around Derpy's neck.

"As long as you have Amber," she said, "our hearts are connected, no matter how far apart we may be."

Derpy Hooves looked to her sister's neck and the necklace that encircled it, identical to her own save for its jewel of white pearl. Her expression calmed and the corners of her mouth turned up just a bit at the reassurance.

The elder mare drew her sister into a soft embrace. "I need you to be brave for me, Derpy. I'll be back before you know it, and all this will become nothing more than a distant memory." She pulled back and looked deep into Derpy's wavering gaze. "Can you be brave for me?"

Derpy gulped and tried to smile, though water welled in her eyes even so. "I'll try, Sis."

"Good girl," said the mare.

The white light of the orb in the sky flashed brightly in response to an unseen command. Tongues of its flame descended from above and wreathed about the earth pony mare. Then, slowly but surely, the mare was borne aloft, ascending into the maelstrom on a cradle of encircling fire.

Derpy's eyes widened in alarm. "Sis?" She trotted forward to within an inch or two of the edge. "Sis!" Her wings unfolded reflexively, but they were still too tiny to carry her weight.

Despite her words, the mare's eyes began to water as well. "Remember me," she said, unable to stop her voice from cracking. "Remember our promise."

"I will!" Derpy shouted from the precipice, her voice barely audible through the wind. "I love you!"

A single tear made its way past the elder mare's defenses. Her body entered the blue energy of the whirlwind and began to disappear from view.

"Most of all," she said, her voice now echoing in the sound of the storm itself. "Never forget your courageous heart."

With a bright flash and one final blast of wind, the cyclone vanished, leaving only silence and stillness in its wake. Derpy Hooves sat back on her haunches and looked up at the last wisps of blue energy making their way into the orb of white flame. Moments later, the orb itself faded from view, leaving its golden-flamed cousin alone in the sky. Derpy's eyes moved back and forth, watching the stars, auroras, and swirling rainbows that drifted about in the darkness for any sign at all, any trace of her dearest sister. Seconds passed, then minutes. She found none.

Her throat tightened and her eyes watered, but Derpy gave a mighty sniff and blinked back the oncoming tears. "Okay, Sis," she whispered. "I won't cry. I'll be brave, just like you said."

Derpy got up slowly and walked back toward the fields of grass. As she passed by the diminutive towers of stacked books, a faint sound permeated the silence. Derpy's eyes widened. She pulled a featureless leather-bound volume from one of the stacks and flipped it open on the ground before her. One eye scanned the pages with intensity as she brought a hoof to the jewel of her necklace, pressing it deep into the gray fur of her chest.

"I'm not afraid," said Derpy. "You're coming back for me, so I'm not afraid."

The sound grew louder and more distinct. It emanated from beyond the cliffside, from the abysmal darkness far below. It was, in fact, not one sound, but many—a choir of voices crying out in pain and anguish. Derpy Hooves began to tremble. She knew that they wouldn't stop. She knew that there was nothing she could do. She simply continued to read, hoping that she could lose herself in the stories all around her. Derpy's heart pounded in her chest and her skin grew hot. Though her teeth began to chatter, she repeated the mantra over and over, hoping that it would become true.

"I'm not afraid . . ."

My Little Pony: Lost Legacies

"Help Wanted"

**[Morning of Day 15]**

Everything smelled like burnt muffins.

Derpy Hooves's eyes snapped open to stare at the textured patterns on the ceiling of her apartment. A ringing noise filled her ears and hammered on the inside of her skull. Her gray-furred right hoof sought out the source, but Derpy's gaze remained locked upward. The muscles in her face contracted and the cotton-like taste of morning breath bothered her more than it should have. No matter how many times she looked up at that ceiling, it never failed to elicit this particular emotion from her.

Her hoof toppled a nearby stack of books in its ongoing search. Derpy's right eye tore its gaze from the patterns above and found the bouncing alarm clock clattering on top of an unmounted shelf. Her hoof came down like a hammer and, at long last, the loud crack of broken glass gave way to merciful silence.

Derpy sat up in her futon and immediately wondered why. She swept the long locks of her blonde mane aside to stare at the fractured alarm clock. It had stopped at 7:41 AM. _That's why_, Derpy thought. _I saw it before I saw it again_. _And I'm late_. Upon realizing this, she pulled herself up from bedding that smelled faintly of body odor to meet the sickening "ever-so-slightly warmer than it should be" air that pressed in on her from all sides..

Random dust motes distracted Derpy's eyes as she stumbled toward the corner where she remembered depositing her mailbags. Finding them where she'd left them—a stroke of good luck by Derpy's reckoning—she began to slide the leather saddlebags on before stopping halfway and supposing that she probably looked awful. The gray pegasus settled the bags back on the floor and made her way a bit more carefully to the bathroom, sidestepping piles of books and magazines so that she wouldn't have to stack them again later.

She gave her stiff wings a stretch and immediately regretted that decision when her wing joints bumped against the walls to either side of the bathroom door. She winced, now fully awake, and her face turned hot at the mistake. With the now-smarting appendages folded back where they belonged indoors, Derpy stepped gingerly across the threshold and looked to the cracked mirror above the sink. Seeing nothing, she flipped on the lights.

The first thing Derpy observed was a frazzled blonde mane begging for attention. Knowing that a time-consuming shower was out of the question, she cranked the faucet and splashed ice-cold water all over her head and neck. After absorbing the excess water from her mane with a towel that smelled of dandruff and old shampoo, Derpy stared into the mirror and brushed her hair back to render her appearance at least somewhat professional. One of her golden irises stared back at her from the mirror. The other one seemed to be observing her efforts with the brush.

Derpy Hooves smiled at the mirror to see what it would look like when she smiled today. It was a vain practice born of habit. After all, the cracked glass never smiled back.

LL


	2. E01: Help Wanted (iii)

Derpy smiled at Twilight Sparkle.

Twilight Sparkle smiled back and floated a stack of letters toward the mailpony with the pink glow of her magic.

"Sorry, Derpy."

Surrounding the two ponies who stood just outside the Golden Oaks Library was a beautiful spring morning. A few clouds drifted lazily above, birdsong twittered from the living branches of the giant tree that housed the library's interior, and Market Square absolutely bustled with the activities of ponies going about their daily business just out of earshot.

Derpy's ears drooped, but her characteristic smile stayed locked in place. "They're not yours? Are you sure?"

Twilight turned the sealed letters in midair so that Derpy could read them. "Yes, unless my name got changed to 'Hugh Jelly' sometime last night."

Taking the letters back in hoof, Derpy looked over them for a second longer than Twilight thought necessary before her somewhat dopey smile turned down a little. "Gee, I'm sorry, Twilight," she apologized as she tossed the stack back into the saddlebag on her left side and began rummaging through one on her right. "I really worked hard to get everything sorted this morning. I was sure I had it right this time."

Derpy's throat clenched painfully as she nosed through the various parcels. Mistakes like these demanded that she think about their cause, and she never liked to think about her job. She'd meant to sort the letters properly this morning, just as she'd meant to every other morning. Despite her efforts, every day came with more mistakes than the last.

"I wish I could say, 'that's okay,'" Twilight conferred in a gentle tone of voice, "but I really don't appreciate having to come out here every day and double-check your deliveries. Are you—" She paused, her violet eyes glancing left and right. "Are you sure that being a mailpony is a good use of your talents?"

Derpy pulled an encyclopedia-sized box from the saddlebag and turned back to Twilight with a strong and decisive movement. As Derpy allowed the package to leave her grip by way of Twilight's magic, she gave her bold answer in the form of a question. "What does that tell you?"

Twilight inspected the information on the package for a moment before looking up from it with an arched eyebrow. "That Mr. Cake is getting the replacement part for his busted mixer today." She turned the box around as Derpy's mouth dropped open. "It's even got the Sugarcube Corner logo printed right next to the delivery address."

Derpy fumed inwardly and fought to keep her facial expression cordial. "Sorry, Twilight," she sighed, though her mind played host to a mix of potent humiliation and impotent anger. She wanted very much to read about Daring Do's latest adventure and forget about this embarrassment. Even the knowledge that she'd read all those books did nothing to quell the desire.

Derpy leaned forward to retrieve her second mistake from midair. The motion was heavy and slow, too slow to stop a bouncing pink pony with a fluffy mane from plucking it away like a piece of low-hanging fruit.

"Ooh! It's finally here!" Pinkie Pie exclaimed as she twirled the package around like a dance partner. "Now I can start mixing things up again!"

Twilight chuckled at her friend's oddly-timed appearance. "I think you two have that market cornered, with or without the repair kit."

"Derpy's not a baker, Twilight," Pinkie stated matter-of-factly. "Did you go silly in the head from too much bookifying?"

Derpy felt a smile returning to her lips as the lump in her throat subsided. She plunged her muzzle into the depths of the right saddlebag for the third time.

Twilight rolled her eyes. "You're the one who's being silly, Pinkie. Sugarcube Corner has three industrial-grade mixers; all of them would have to break before you stopped mixing."

Pinkie waved a dismissive hoof at her friend and flashed a toothy grin. "Yeah, but Mr. and Mrs. Cake only let me use the one that breaks all the time."

Twilight's brow furrowed. "I'm sure that's a coincidence."

"Speaking of coincidences," Pinkie exclaimed, turning toward Derpy with an even more brilliant smile. "You are—like—the best mailpony ever! How did you know I was gonna walk by just now?"

Derpy nearly lost her grip on a couple of freshly-retrieved letters as she turned to face Pinkie with wide eyes. She'd never been called that before. Come to think of it, she'd never been called anything before . . . at least, not positive.

Pinkie Pie's gaze narrowed. "Do you have a 'Derpy Sense?'"

Twilight gently pushed Pinkie aside and eyeballed the letters. "Actually, I think she's got my mail."

"Oh well," Pinkie Pie remarked, tossing the repair kit onto her back with a carefree motion. "It's a mystery for another day. Thanks, Derpy!"

Twilight watched her friend bound off in the general direction of Sugarcube Corner before turning back to find a grinning Derpy, each of her two eyes looking at something that wasn't Twilight. She leaned forward and took hold of her correspondence.

"Best mailpony ever . . ." Derpy Hooves repeated in genuine awe.

Twilight bit her lower lip, but her words came out strong in the next moment. "We both know that was luck, Derpy. If you had the kind of talent that Pinkie's talking about, you wouldn't be making mistakes in the first place."

This time Derpy couldn't help but look crestfallen. The mailpony lowered her head in shame only to see a lavender-furred hoof reach over and touch her own.

"Listen," Twilight said, her voice growing softer and venturing down an octave. "If you're in love with the idea of delivering Ponyville's mail, then I've got no right to criticize your choices. I'm just worried that you're sinking all your time and effort into something that you're not suited for."

Derpy didn't raise her head.

"Even if there's some other kind of problem behind this," Twilight continued. "You know that you can ask for help anytime you need it, right?"

Derpy's head snapped back up in an alarming fashion, her left eye fixed directly on Twilight. "Uh-oh."

Twilight Sparkle cocked her head to the side. "What's 'uh-oh?'"

Derpy gulped. "I forgot something."

LL


	3. E01: Help Wanted (iv)

"Sure! I'll help anytime you need me to, Rainbow Dash," shouted Rainbow Dash from the demolished roof of Town Hall. "I distinctly remember _somepony_—you know, like the one who busted this roof in the first place—promising me that."

Derpy Hooves dug at the dirt near a pair of massive half-inch sheets of plywood. "Sorry, Rainbow Dash."

The cyan pegasus pony and her multi-hued mane poked out over the ledge above. "I asked you to schedule a day off _two weeks_ ago, Derpy. You said you could handle this."

Derpy felt too embarrassed to meet her accuser's gaze. Try as she might, she couldn't find a single good reason for her lack of responsibility. "I just don't know what went wrong," she recited, immediately wincing as the phrase left her mouth.

Rainbow Dash's eyelids dropped halfway. "Yeah, I've heard that one before too." Her wings flew open, carried her aloft from the building's third story, and brought her to a soft landing within a few feet of the downcast mailmare.

Derpy gulped at her tightening throat muscles, ashamed at the number of mistakes she'd been making lately. However, when she looked into the magenta eyes of her superior she saw acceptance, even if only of the inevitable.

Rainbow Dash sighed and gave a toss of her mane as she walked forward. "Well, you're here now at least. The floor frame's already set thanks to some help I got earlier." She nudged at the top slab of plywood. "Here, help me get this on the deck—you'll have to stand on it so I can make a clean cut."

Grateful for the ease with which she'd been forgiven, Derpy took extra care in helping to lift the plywood and set it down on the porch deck of the building. Once it was flat, Rainbow Dash began lining up the guide marks on the sheet with the edge of the deck to ensure a result that matched the measurements of the third story.

"Rainbow," said Derpy, saccharine smile firmly back in place. "Do you think I should quit being a mailpony?"

Rainbow Dash did not look up from her task. "What do you want to do instead?"

"I dunno. Twilight said I might be wasting my talents."

Rainbow gave a quizzical stare to her assistant before turning about to search through her toolbag. "What _are_ your talents? I mean, besides breaking and forgetting stuff?"

"I dunno."

"Okay . . ." Rainbow drawled as she found the hoofsaw and laid it flat on the plywood. "What about your dreams? What do you want to _do_ with your life anyway?"

Derpy's expression remained oddly transfixed. Her right eye drifted high and to the outside. Rainbow Dash was about to say something to break the awkward silence when Derpy's eyebrows drooped. Every movement of the gray pegasus's face made her unwavering smile look more out-of-place.

"I dunno."

Rainbow leaned forward over the plywood. "It sounds like you've got a lot to think about before you even _consider_ giving up the one thing you've got going for you." She tapped her right hoof on the sheet. "Hop up on the deck and stand on this side, okay? Time to cut this bad boy down to size."

Derpy was about to comply when she felt a brisk tap on her shoulder. She turned about to stare up at a tall pegasus stallion wearing the saddlebags of the Ponyville Post Office. Her eyes came down to see an envelope in his outstretched hoof. Derpy retrieved it as an automatic response, not even having the chance to inquire as to the letter's contents before the lanky pony had already marched off.

Rainbow Dash twirled the hoofsaw recklessly. "What was that about?"

Derpy tore open the envelope with her teeth and unfolded the message inside. When she looked up at Rainbow Dash again, the corners of her mouth had finally turned down. "Looks like I don't have much of a choice anymore."

LL


	4. E01: Help Wanted (v)

**[Afternoon of Day 15]**

"You never thought that you were in danger of being fired?" asked the Postmaster.

Derpy looked up at him with the wide-eyed innocence of a filly half her age. "No."

The Postmaster groaned and leaned forward on his oaken desk while rubbing at his temples. He was a middle-aged earth pony stallion, no longer in the prime of his life but equally far from prospects of retirement. He scratched at the graying stubble on his chin and briefly looked out the windows of his office to see numerous clerks sorting stacks of outgoing mail for shipment later in the day. The soundproofed windows muted the noise of the busy scene, but the sight itself seemed to lend him additional composure. His withering gaze returned to the gray pegasus before him.

"Derpy," the Postmaster began, "do you remember the stallion who summoned you to my office?"

"Yeah!" Derpy replied with the enthusiasm of a proud student.

"His name is Chuck Parcel," the Postmaster continued. "Do you know what his job is?"

"He's a mailpony," Derpy answered, glad that her boss had decided to give her a quiz instead of letting her go.

The Postmaster frowned. "His job is to follow behind you and correct all the mistakes you make."

"Wow," said Derpy. "I bet if he worked _with_ me then I wouldn't screw up any more deliveries."

"Derpy Hooves," the Postmaster stated formally, pushing a pink Notice of Termination across the desk. "He can do your job by himself." There was a pause as he watched the corners of the Derpy's mouth come down a bit. "Flawlessly."

As Derpy took hold of the notice, there was a tapping at the office door. The Postmaster held up a "one moment" hoof to the pony on the other side of the glass.

"Now I want you to know that this isn't personal," said the grizzled earth pony in a more comforting tone. "I'm not doing this because I'm angry at you. I simply can't justify paying two ponies for a job that one pony can do."

Derpy didn't look up from reading the notice.

"This isn't Canterlot," the Postmaster continued, "so I can't refer you to the Department of Labor. However, if you look at the bottom of the form you'll see the names and addresses of Ponyville's volunteer social workers—"

"My apartment," Derpy blurted out as she brought her gaze up to meet the Postmaster's. "It's low rent, but you have to have proof of employment." The corners of her mouth twitched nervously. The usual cheer had departed from her voice. "They're gonna get a copy of this?"

The Postmaster remained stone-faced. "Official notices are sent out at the start of each business day. You know that, Derpy."

"I'll be evicted the same day!" Derpy yelped before shrinking back from her own outburst in the very next instant.

"If that's the case, then you'd best be going," the Postmaster replied while gesturing toward the door. "Not much time to pack before the sun goes down."

For the first time since the Postmaster had known her, Derpy proved capable of taking a hint. She turned to the exit, casting only a single glance back at her former supervisor before opening the door. Standing before her was a well-dressed earth pony mare whose blue eyes stared down at Derpy through a pair of gold-framed reading glasses. The mare said nothing, but Derpy felt her heart sink and her throat swell. Seeing a mare nearly the same age as herself but visually at the height of personal success caused everything about her present situation to become mercilessly clear. Feeling red-hot with shame, Derpy continued past the mare without a word.

"Come in, please," declared the Postmaster.

The fuchsia-hued mare stepped into his office, her brilliant red hair and its single white streak wound tightly into a bun. Her blouse, tie, business jacket, skirt, and the armband worn on the outside of the jacket told the Postmaster that he was looking at a government agent, but this particular combination of white, dark green, and red colors did not belong to any department that he was aware of. He cleared his throat.

"So, what can I do for you, Miss . . ."

"Three Strike," the earth pony answered, her modest golden necklace and earrings dancing about as she walked. "Although you may call me 'Miss Strike.'"

LL


	5. E01: Help Wanted (vi)

As Derpy closed the front door of her apartment behind her, she realized that the air inside hadn't changed at all. It was just warm enough to make her skin feel sticky and it smelled even more heavily of burnt muffins, despite the fact that the packaged ones on the counter looked just as they had when she'd bought them.

Derpy allowed the Termination Notice from the Post Office and the Immediate Eviction Notice she'd torn from the nail on her door to fall from her grip as she once again maneuvered between stacks of books and magazines, many of which she'd never actually read. The magazines kept showing up in her mailbox no matter what she did to stop the influx. She hadn't even thought about going through the effort to throw them away before the whole mess became too cumbersome to deal with on her own. The books had been recommendations from Rainbow Dash, and Derpy could even remember having once enjoyed them. However, a feeling of tension in her chest had begun to overtake her every time she dove into the fantasy between the pages. That same feeling now gripped her fiercely, and she had no idea now how to make it go away.

In the emptiness created by her lack of knowledge, a gruff and familiar voice began to speak._Life is a battle that we have no choice but to fight each and every day. It's silly to think that you can win. Surviving is the best that anypony who isn't kidding themselves could hope for._

Derpy's mouth dried up as her father's words began to echo in her troubled mind. She reached over to the linoleum counter that bordered the one-pony kitchen and pulled the muffin box toward her. She opened it to find three of the four lemon poppyseed muffins in tantalizing condition. In spite of the fact that her tightening throat felt as if it couldn't handle a single straw of hay, Derpy took a bite from one of the muffins, desperate for the comforting solace that always accompanied the savory sweetness within.

Derpy spat out the bit of muffin on the floor and gagged. She looked hard at the half-chewed mess, and then at the rest of the muffin. It had tasted like dirt, chalky and full of grit. She dropped the muffin and took a step backwards. _The muffins aren't bad_, Derpy thought. _The one I had yesterday was yummy._ She remembered having tasted dirt before, when she forgot to close her mouth before getting her face shoved to the ground by a bully. _The muffin didn't go bad,_ she realized, her eyes widening as she stumbled backward through the piles of literature and unassembled furniture components.

_I went bad._

Derpy tripped over a stack of "Daring Do" novels and landed heavily on her flank. She wasn't sure whether the crack she heard came from the floor or from somewhere inside her own head. A rushing river of painful memories and genuine hopelessness broke upon her mind with terrible force, as if it had been straining against a dam of self-delusion for years beforehand. Her eyes darted across the walls, looking desperately for anything that could stem the venomous tide. Half-built bookshelves leaning against peeling wallpaper only reminded her of her tendency to leave things unfinished. Purple medals from any number of Young Flyers camps and competitions only emphasized the consistency of her failures.

Derpy's gaze finally came to rest on a tiny, poorly-taken picture sitting on the counter—her only possession when she'd first moved in. She knew what it was, but got up to have a closer look anyway. It was a photograph of her standing beside her father from the end of a "Bring Your Daughter to Work Day" at a Cloudsdale Weather Manufacturing Plant. The glare from a nearby metal silo obscured the form of her younger self, but her father's perpetually unenthusiastic stare presented itself in the finest detail.

Derpy felt the muscles in her face contract. Tears welled in her eyes, and her skin began to alternate between the tingling feeling that one gets after having let a limb fall asleep and flat-out numbness. Her body felt hotter than every single stove-top she'd burned herself on while trying to learn how to cook. Pain lanced through her brain, stronger than that of any bone she'd broken while learning how to fly. Her teeth ground against each other hard enough that she knew one of them would crack any moment now. She raised her front-right hoof in a way that she had only ever seen others do with the intention of violence.

The room smelled like burnt muffins and the ringing noise was everywhere. Derpy's hoof came down like a hammer.

LL


	6. E01: Help Wanted (vii)

**[Evening of Day 15]**

_Knock_,_ knock, knock._

The half-circle upper portion of the tripartite wooden door opened to reveal a lavender unicorn, her surprised face bathed in the fading crimson light of sunset.

"Derpy?"

"Hi, Twilight," replied the smiling gray pegasus with a shuffle of her muffin-clip saddlebags. Derpy hoped that the light was hiding any remaining redness in her eyes.

"Did you forget something from earlier?" Twilight asked innocently before giving a sly smile. "Still got some of my mail in those bags?"

The corners of Derpy's mouth ached for some reason. "Can I—" A flood of inexplicable dread washed over her.

Derpy shook it off. "Can I come in for a bit?"

"Sure!" Twilight chirped, pushing open the door's lower halves and extending a hoof into the well-lit library that doubled as her home. "You need to talk about something?"

"Yeah," was all that Derpy could manage as she walked indoors and focused her mind on the movements of her legs to ensure their stability. She lost that focus and nearly tripped when her eyes met with the library's interior. Rows upon rows of massive bookshelves hewn into the fragrant wood of the tree's interior towered in her vision, all of them perfectly organized and dustless. The hardwood floor shone from repeated polishings. Even the lamps looked as if they'd all just had their oil filled.

"I'd put some tea on," Twilight said as she closed the front door, "but that's one of the things that Spike went to get from the general store before they close." She rolled her eyes and made her way toward the round table at the middle of the room. "It doesn't seem to matter how closely I follow the checklists; we always run out of something at just the wrong time." She stopped just before reaching the table. "Do you want to sit down, or . . ."

Derpy _did_ want to sit on the comfortable-looking wooden stool and have some delicious tea. The moment that she realized this, she viciously squashed both desires and forced her scratchy voice into action. "I got fired from the Post Office today."

Twilight lifted a front hoof. "That's awful, Derpy! Why did they—" She stopped the question and bit her lip. "I mean, are you—"

"I got kicked out of my apartment because I don't have a job anymore," Derpy interrupted. "I didn't get the deposit back 'cause the place was a mess. I could only take what would fit into my saddlebags 'cause I didn't have anything else to pack with. I don't have enough bits for a hotel tonight and I—" She paused in apprehension. "Um, I don't have anywhere to go."

Twilight's mouth hung agape. Derpy had expected that. Anypony would be surprised to have somepony who wasn't even their friend lay such a boatload of concerns at their hooves. What Derpy didn't expect was when the librarian's expression began to show indications of what Derpy could only see as frustration. _I knew this was stupid,_ she thought. _Ponies offer to help all the time, but it's really just good manners._

"Are you . . . upset?" asked Twilight.

The question snapped Derpy's attention back from her internal feud. "Yeah, why?"

"You just told me about how your life fell apart in a matter of hours like you're reading off of a grocery checklist," Twilight replied, her eyes searching Derpy's features in studious fashion. "And you're grinning like you just won the lottery."

_What?_ Derpy's mind thought even as her mouth listed off the last item on her mental checklist. "You were one of the social workers on the paper that my boss gave me . . ." The sentence trailed off. _I'm smiling?_

"Oh," Twilight responded, averting her gaze and lifting a hoof to her chin. "So that's what this is."

_That's not what this is,_ Derpy thought, but her mouth did nothing.

Twilight moved back toward the door, talking over her shoulder as she went. "Well, I'm probably not the best choice to handle your case, Derpy. I've never actually managed one on my own before. Still, I can get you into a shelter for the night and put you in contact with—"

"My dad told me to smile," Derpy blurted out.

Twilight stopped and turned around. Derpy remained at the table, the trembling of her forelegs plainly visible even from behind.

"You never think about the burden you put on others," Derpy continued, speaking for the voice behind her ears in an even tone. "Everypony has their own things to take care of, and you'd best believe that nopony wants to see those crocodile tears. Just keep smiling. Don't bother nopony with that sad-sack of a face you've got on. Either handle your own problem or just shut up about it; most problems go away on their own anyhow."

Derpy Hooves turned about slowly. Her eyes had become so bloodshot that nary a hint of white remained in them. Tears streamed down her cheeks in constant rivulets. Her mouth shook and struggled to keep her words coherent between sobs. "I thought I was being a good pony, Twilight. I was taking care of myself, and nopony needed to worry about me. I did everything Dad taught me, but now I can't even take care of myself anymore. I don't think that I ever really could."

Twilight shifted on her hooves for a moment as a strangled sob cut Derpy's explanation short, but stopped when the distraught pony's voice came back louder than before

"He was a stupid pony, wasn't he?" Derpy nearly shouted, the burning pain in her esophagus choking back half of her intended volume. "And I'm a stupid pony for listening to him. I'm not in love with delivering mail. I've spent all this time trying not to be a bother. I never even _thought_ about trying to _be_ something else! I've been getting out of everypony's way for so long that I . . . I don't even have a way for myself anymore."

Derpy hung her head and allowed her tears to drop onto the perfect floor below. "I just . . . I just don't know what to do. What are you supposed to do when everything you know _how_ to do doesn't work? Whatever it is . . . I don't think I can do it on my own."

It took all of Derpy's remaining strength not to break down and sob her eyes out. There had never been any need for reservation in the lonely places where these feelings usually came to the fore. In front of a pony whom she'd just asked the impossible of, she was certain that the act would only serve as the final nail in her coffin.

Silence hung on the air for what must have been minutes. Derpy didn't dare look up after belting out such a humiliating monologue, but her ears worked just fine.

_Knock, knock, knock._

Derpy's heart froze with fear as she listened to the metallic click of Twilight unlatching the front door. She felt totally drained from her outburst and lacked even the wherewithal to hide her shameful state. The door creaked open.

"Hello," a mature and unfamiliar voice sounded from the doorway. "Would you happen to be Miss Twilight Sparkle?"

"I am," Twilight answered curtly, "and I'm also very busy at the moment. If you wouldn't mind coming back tomorrow or—"

"I would mind, actually," the older voice interrupted. "You see, the last train for Canterlot will be departing in 45 minutes, and I don't intend on boarding without completing my allotted task. Is a 'Miss Derpy Hooves' currently visiting?"

Curiosity overcame Derpy. She chanced a look only to have her mouth fall open in the same instant. It was the mare from the Post Office! The last rays of the sun gave her red hair the luminescence of an open flame and cast her face in a hue much darker than Derpy remembered. She looked down at Derpy through her gold-framed reading glasses with an almost tangible air of cool professionalism.

"Yes," Twilight answered in an ascending tonal scale. "And you would know this because?"

"Forgive me," the mare said with with dubious sincerity as she pulled out a badge of office. "My name is Three Strike and I am an agent of the Bureau of Social Corrections. We received notice of Miss Hooves's termination early this morning and, as part of a routine check, found that she not only lacks the resources to further sustain herself but also has little chance of finding new employment due to her limited skill set." She straightened her glasses. "In situations that create an indefensible burden for the local community, the Bureau steps in to relocate the offender to a reeducation facility for the benefit of the hardworking citizens of Equestria."

Twilight seemed to process this for a moment before responding. "I've never heard of that Bureau."

Three Strike's eyes narrowed. "With respect, Miss Sparkle, not even the 'number-one student' of Princess Celestia can be expected to have intimate knowledge of all the workings in Equestria's government structure." She raised her head a bit to look down her nose at Twilight. "Because we have no photograph of Miss Hooves on record, I've been one step behind her for most of the day and I have little patience remaining. I do, however, still carry the full power and authority of the Equestrian Diarchy to relocate the offender within your residence. Please move aside unless you wish to stand in defiance of that which I represent."

Twilight's back hooves shifted. "You'll have to give me just a second, Miss Strike. I promise you won't be late for the train!" She quickly shut the door before the agent had a chance to respond.

"Offender?" Twilight thought aloud as she leaned back against the door. "She's talking like she's got an arrest warrant." Her eyes widened. "And what the hay is a 'reeducation facility'? That sounds like code-speak for a prison . . ." Twilight's voice faded as she looked back toward Derpy.

The gray pegasus sat up straight to meet her gaze. She had wiped the tears from her sore, itching eyes and the sobs were gone from her voice. Derpy did her best to smile and said, "You don't have to worry, Twilight. I'll go with Miz Strike. I think I've already caused enough trouble."

Derpy found Twilight's next expression thoroughly unreadable. The unicorn's eyes opened wider and her pupils dilated as if in surprise, but her brow furrowed and her mouth transitioned into a stolid grimace.

"What do you want to do?" asked Twilight.

"Huh?"

"What do you _want_ to do, Derpy?" Twilight repeated with emphasis as Three Strike began to knock at the door. "I can't believe that you'd actually make a decision like this based solely on what's convenient for me. Stop thinking about what's best for other ponies. I need to know what _you_ want."

Taken aback at the request, Derpy slowly looked up toward the ceiling. It rose more than twice as high as the ceiling of her old apartment. In place of the sloppy painted textures, a beautiful hoof-carved pattern rose to a shallow point high above her head. It became crystal-clear to her in that moment, looking up at that open space made by skillful craft. The thoughtless array of scattered paint that hung above her futon was the only mirror in her apartment that reflected how she felt about herself. Her mind cast aside the language of that ceiling and sought out the words belonging to the one above her now.

Derpy's search yielded only vague hopes where her honest desires should have been. The icy chill of panic coursed through her veins. How could she be expected to give voice to something that she'd suppressed for so long? What did Twilight expect her to say? Her throat dried up and her mind froze with fear. However, in the silence punctuated only by the knocking on the library door, a faint voice that was nothing like her father's echoed from somewhere deep inside Derpy's consciousness.

_Never forget your courageous heart._

"This," Derpy blurted out with a wave of her hoof. "I want this." When Twilight returned her words with naught but a quizzical stare, Derpy blushed heavily. "I mean, not [i]exactly[/i] this but . . . you know, a home." She smiled at the thought. "Family, friends . . . a real life, not another fake one that goes away when I close the book." Her eyes met with Twilight's and, for once, agreed upon where they'd look. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, I wanna be like you, Twilight."

A moment of silence followed, causing Derpy to wilt. "Is . . . is that bad?"

Twilight gave a heavy sigh, smiled ruefully, and opened the door, nearly getting clobbered by a hastily-halted knock in the process. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Strike, but you'll be going back to Canterlot empty-hooved. I'm taking responsibility for Derpy as my dependent from this moment forward."

Three Strike recoiled and let out a short, high-pitched whinny. "E-excuse me?"

Twilight grinned. "And don't think for a minute that the police are going to help you force the issue. You're sure to get the same answer from any pony in Ponyville; we're pretty serious about taking care of our own."

"Now, be reasonable, Miss Twilight," the agent chided, evening out her tone and straightening her posture. "You're already caring for a baby dragon and your duties to Princess Celestia must be quite tiring. To take on such a burden is—"

"My choice," Twilight interrupted. "Besides, I'm not taking on a burden." She turned back to Derpy for a moment and flashed a genuine smile in the rose-hued light. "Friends don't weigh anything at all, 'cause they lift you right back."

The statement struck Derpy with both intense relief and a vague sense of deja vu, although she was sure that she'd never heard that particular expression before.

Three Strike's brow furrowed deeply, her blue irises staring at Twilight with unbridled ferocity. "I understand that being so close to the princess has a way of inflating one's ego, but you simply don't have the authority to cancel this relocation." She smiled in the same manner that a timber wolf might snarl. "Now get out of my way before I have to take this to a higher authority."

"That's actually not a bad idea," Twilight shot back. "Ready to take a letter, Spike?" she shouted to someone outside of Derpy's line of sight.

"Yo!" a masculine voice replied from some distance away.

Three Strike looked less sure of herself. "A letter?"

"I have this little direct connection to the princess through my 'baby' dragon's Emerald Flame," Twilight stated in jocular fashion. "We'll just send a quick message to her about this and see what _she_ has to say about this 'relocation' of yours." Her tone had shifted from joking to mocking.. "Want to place a bet on who she'll side with?"

"Wouldn't bet on the stuffed suit," Spike remarked as he edged past both the doorway's occupants with a cumbersome load of paper grocery bags in tow. "Oh! Hi, Derpy! What're you doin' here this late?"

Derpy felt too overwhelmed to even consider replying.

Three Strike lowered her glasses, all pretense gone from her face. "You think you're terribly clever, don't you?"

Twilight shifted a bit at the look of unrestrained hostility, but her voice betrayed nothing. "It's not a matter of theory, Miss Strike."

The agent's expression began to resemble that of some sort of feral creature. Derpy found herself preparing to leap to Twilight's defense, but the look disappeared from Three Strike's face as quickly as it had first shown itself. Feigning professionalism, the agent turned on her heels and stormed off, calling back over her shoulder, "I wish you good luck in keeping that position of yours, Miss Sparkle. I have a feeling that you'll run out of it before this matter is over and done with."

"Good luck coming up with a decent threat next time," Spike remarked casually as he carried the paper bags into the kitchen.

LL


	7. E01: Help Wanted (viii & ix)

"Okay," Twilight Sparkle began as she spread a fluffy plaid comforter over the bed. "You can use this guest bedroom for as long as you need to, provided that you keep it just as clean as the rest of the library." She adjusted the cover in an effort to ensure that it was perfectly even. "Spike serves breakfast at seven, lunch at one, and dinner at six. I'll have him cook an extra portion for you, but no snacking allowed, okay? If you want to do that, you'll have to find a way to pay for it on your own."

Twilight sighed and looked about. "You know, this used to be the Librarian's Office before I moved in. I like to keep my studies closer to my bed, so I didn't have much use for it until Applejack and Rarity got trapped here during a storm." She giggled. "They had such a problem sleeping in the same upstairs bed that I swore I'd convert this into a guest room the very next day. What do you think of my efforts?"

Derpy Hooves smiled dreamily back at her from across the bed. "Cool."

Twilight's right eyebrow went up. "Derpy, you've barely said two words in a row ever since I sent Miss Strike packing. Is there something bugging you?"

Derpy's eyes avoided Twilight's gaze in different directions. "Did you mean it when you said we were friends?"

"Of course," Twilight replied cheerily. "Why do you ask?"

Derpy drooped her head forward onto the comforter. "I don't see why you'd want to be."

Twilight rested her own head and forelegs on the opposite side. "Honestly, I hadn't much considered the idea before today. I changed my mind because I saw something that I hadn't taken the time to see before." She smiled warmly. "You're a good pony, Derpy."

The pegasus mare blushed. "I don't think so."

"Really?" Twilight questioned. "What about when you were ready to go to whatever awful place Miss Strike was calling a 'reeducation facility' just so that you wouldn't get me in trouble?"

"That was—" Derpy began to respond without thinking.

"That was you being considerate of me," Twilight interrupted. "Even after you realized that it was a mistake to do that all the time, and even though it was of no benefit to you, you still tried to help me."

Derpy's expression turned to pure wonder. It really had felt different to deliberately risk her own happiness for somepony else's.

"I didn't have any pony friends when I came to this town," Twilight continued in a somewhat somber tone of voice, "and I didn't intend on making any either. I made an effort to sound obstinate, but I was really thinking things like, 'Who would want me for a friend?' and, 'I'd just be butting in on their lives.'" An obvious smile returned to the unicorn's face. "But the ponies who became my best friends saw through my act and decided to bet on the good that they saw underneath. Now, I want to make that same bet on you."

"Thanks, Twilight," Derpy mumbled, her face having turned beet red. She looked up from the comforter. "Was that what you were writing about in your diary earlier?"

"Diary?" Twilight asked, raising her head from her hooves. "Oh! You mean the letter to Princess Celestia?"

"You write her letters?" Derpy wondered aloud.

"Well, to be accurate, I write 'reports' to her," Twilight elaborated as she rose from the bed. "It's part of my continuing studies on the Magic of Friendship." She paused for a moment before beaming enthusiasm overwhelmed her expression. "You want to give it a try?"

Derpy drew back a bit. "I wouldn't know what to say to the princess."

"It's nothing too formal," Twilight coaxed as she moved toward the door to the main library. "You just honestly tell the princess anything that you learned recently about friendship." She poked her head out the bedroom door. "Ready to take another letter, Spike?"

The violet-scaled dragon hung upside down from above the doorway, quill pen and parchment in hand. "As always."

Twilight narrowed her eyes. "Were you eavesdropping?"

Spike waved a clawed hand dismissively. "Twilight, when I drop some eaves, you'll know it."

Twilight groaned. "Uh-huh. Do me a favor and look up the word 'eaves' when you're done, okay?" She turned to the room's third occupant. "Don't be shy, Derpy. Just tell Spike anything you learned about friendship today."

Derpy contemplated this for nearly a half-minute before raising her suddenly confident and cheerful gaze to meet Spike's. "Dear Princess Celestia," she began. "Twilight is the best pony."

Silence hung in the air and a powerful blush arose on Twilight's face. She opened her mouth to respond.

"In the whole world." Derpy continued.

A few seconds passed.

"Is . . . is that it?" Twilight ventured cautiously.

"The End," Derpy concluded with pride.

Twilight's mouth hung open as Spike dissolved into chuckles. "Well, it—" she stuttered. "It has to be a bit longer than that, Derpy. We can't send—"

_FWOOSH!_

The parchment disappeared in a flash of green flame that burst forth from Spike's mouth. He grinned mischievously. "Man, I'm gonna love reading the reply to that one."

When Derpy began to laugh at Spike getting smacked down from his perch by an enraged Twilight, she marveled at how unfamiliar it felt. Had it really been so long since she'd expressed real joy? The introspective thought came to a quick end when yawns interrupted her giggles. Thankfully, Twilight was quick to notice this. She excused herself and the misbehaving Spike from the room while bidding her new friend goodnight.

Derpy gazed about the cozy room and blew out the lantern lights one-by-one, gazing in awe at just how pretty and inviting everything looked compared to the place she'd lived in just hours before. The tired and preoccupied pegasus mare tripped over her saddlebags, spilling a few of the contents across the floor as she fought to regain her balance. A surge of embarrassed anger washed over her mind just before a strange sight extinguished it.

A silver necklace bearing an amber pendant lay on the floor, glittering even in the darkened room. Derpy lifted the beautiful object with a careful hoof and squinted at the flickering glow within the gemstone. _Did I own something like this?_ Her attempt to recall the necklace's origin brought forth only a powerful yawn from a mind too worn-out for curiosity. Derpy deposited the pendant on the nightstand and proceeded to bury herself deep in the bed's incredibly cozy covers, resolving to confront the mystery item at a later date as her mind drifted off into slumber.

Bits and pieces of a muffled conversation could still be heard from the room beyond.

"Letter's here!"

"So quick? I hope Derpy's didn't bump into this one on its way."

"I don't . . . works like that. Anyhow, what's it say?"

" . . ."

"I was right. There is no Bureau of Social Corrections."

"So Miss Strike was a total phony? Why even make up all that stuff? Who would go that far just to get to Derpy?"

"Can't say for sure, Spike. You know what this means though, right?"

"That the one who . . . is still out there?"

"Yep. Get a message ready for the Sheriff's Department. We finally have a suspect."

LL

Three Strike marched briskly through the streets of Ponyville in the murky twilight that followed the last rays of sunset. Various building tenants stepped outside to light the many lamps that would provide illumination for the town's nightlife. Her brow remained contorted with anger and she bit roughly at her lower lip. Putting a hoof through the gold ring at the end of the hairpin that held her bun in place, she pulled with a fearsome flourish and released her mane. The hair immediately bounced back into its naturally fluffy state, almost frizzy from being pent up for so long. Three Strike felt a mild sense of relief as her hair fell free, but nothing could truly quell her anger at the moment.

"Oh! Hello there, Pinkie Pie," sounded a soft and demure voice from behind. The canary yellow pegasus mare named Fluttershy trotted forward with a bag of goods from the general store balanced carefully on her back. "What're you doing out so late? See, I accidentally ran out of—"

Three Strike whirled on the unfortunate pegasus with a furious glare, her eyes practically aglow in the dim light.

Fluttershy recoiled and nearly dropped her bag. "Oh my," she exclaimed, her voice taking on the quality of a frightened half-whisper. "I'm—um—I'm so sorry. Y-you're not Pinkie." Her voice locked up under the stranger's imposing stare. She gulped loudly. "M-my mistake?" The glare continued unabated. Fluttershy forced a timid smile and rushed headlong through her next words. "Nohardfeelings? That'sgoodokaybyethen."

Three Strike watched the pegasus mare bolt off into the dim light and smirked. "Kindness, huh?" she muttered upon resuming course. She tossed her hair back, feeling just a bit lighter on her hooves than she had a few moments ago. "Maybe those six won't be so hard to deal with after all."

~E01 End~


	8. A1A: Night Raid

_Amethyst 1A: Night Raid_

**[Night of Day 15]**

The darkness of night had descended like a comforting blanket on the streets of Ponyville, its cool breeze washing away the warmth and mild humidity of the day as the lamps on every building bathed the town in an alluring golden glow. Most of the hardworking citizens were just now settling down to a home-cooked dinner, but plenty of night-owls had already flooded into the pubs. Their carousing echoed across Market Square, adding a good measure of homely cheer to the evening's ambiance.

Twilight Sparkle and Spike stood at the edge of a streetlamp's glow in an alleyway across from the three-story Ponyville Country Inn. The unicorn kept her movements subdued, flinching at any noise whose source she could not see. The juvenile dragon, however, leaned casually against a wall and yawned.

"Are you sure Brass Badge said to meet him here?" Spike asked, his tone halfway between curiosity and complaint.

Twilight turned her gaze from the inn to her assistant, accidentally staring at his midriff before moving up to meet his eyes. "Y-yes, of course I'm sure," she replied, still unused to the dragon's growth spurt that had brought his standing height level with her own. "And don't let Mr. Badge catch you calling him anything but 'Sheriff' unless you've got an appetite for community service."

"Uptight much?" Spike remarked.

"I can't say that he doesn't suffer from a bit of 'blue-uniform-itis,'" responded a husky voice from the darkness, "but Sheriff Badge is a good officer, if Ponyville's crime rate is any indication."

An earth pony stallion of medium build wearing a tan overcoat and fedora stepped into the soft golden light. His fur was a particularly dark brown. His tousled hair bore the same color, only a few shades milder. The shadow of the fedora's brim hid most of his bestubbled face from view, but his honest blue eyes shone through clearly.

The stallion cleared his throat. "Are you Miss Twilight Sparkle?"

Twilight stared at him with a slight tilt of her head. "I am. And you are?"

The stallion opened his overcoat to reveal a gleaming badge of office. "Detective Liner, Canterlot P.D. — Violent Crimes Unit. I've been assigned to take over as this case's head investigator." He offered a friendly hoof that bore an expensive silver watch. "It's an honor, Miss Sparkle."

"It's a relief on my end," Twilight sighed as she shook the stallion's hoof. "For a moment there, I thought we'd picked the wrong alley." She gestured toward a young dragon scaled in equal parts violet and green. "This is my assistant Spike."

Liner gave a warm smile. "A rare pleasure to work with a dragon, Master Spike."

"Yessir, Detective," Spike replied, straightening his pose to match the authority figure's praise.

Liner nodded and walked forward to get a better look at the inn. "The timing of your letter was fortunate; it dropped onto the desk between the sheriff and I just after he got done briefing me on the situation thus far. We were able to act on the information immediately."

"Is the sheriff already inside?" Twilight asked.

Liner looked toward a two-story house on the right side of the inn. "He's in the pub with Deputy Surefire. Deputy Warrant and a pair of my officers have the inn's exits covered. The inn's proprietor confirmed Three Strike's presence in Room 208 just over an hour ago via the cleaning staff." He paused. "It's funny, I didn't expect the perp to slip up like this after leaving Sheriff Badge not a single trail to follow at the first crime scene."

"She did seem a bit out-of-sorts earlier," Twilight commented. "Though I'm not sure how much of that is my fault."

Spike stepped forward. "Why do you keep looking at that other building?"

"Civilian volunteer in the second-story bedroom," Liner replied. "She'll signal us when she spots Miss Strike's shadow in Room 208. At that point, we'll—"

The lights in the bedroom of the two-story house came on.

"Okay, that's our cue," Liner said quickly, a bit more verve making its way into his tone. He turned to the alley's other two occupants. "When I give the word, walk with me to the inn. Be sure to stay casual—208 has a partial view of the entrance." He extended the crook of his front-left leg. "If you'd be so kind, Miss Sparkle."

Twilight looked taken aback. "E-excuse me?"

"Miss Strike's seen you before," said Liner. "If you approach alone, it'll look suspicious. On the other hoof, if she thinks you're on a beeline from the pub . . ."

Twilight's face reddened, though her logical mind agreed with the detective's reasoning. Spike moved both hands to his mouth to suppress a chuckle.

Just a few buildings down from the alley, the pub's doors swung open to reveal Sheriff Brass Badge and Deputy Surefire. The two officers, both decked out in black & white suits with matching black fedoras, bore a large rectangular instrument case between them as they meandered about on a zigzag course toward the inn.

Liner emphasized his leg motion as he watched them advance. "Come on, we're up."

Leaving hesitation behind, Twilight put her front-right leg through the crook of the detective's and leaned on him slightly as they began their approach. Her heart was racing—due to the tension, she hoped—and she made a concerted effort not to react to the strong smell of Liner's aftershave. She chanced a look back to see Spike moving just behind them, improvising as a creepy, leering onlooker. It occurred to Twilight that he looked a bit too natural in the role.

The sheriff and deputy entered the building without so much as a glance at the trio. Twilight and Liner pushed through the oaken doors just a few seconds later and stepped into the warm lighting of the Country Inn's modest lobby. The inn's interior emulated Ponyville's signature rustic charm by giving the appearance that it had all originally been built from a humble ranch house, even though most of the town's residents regarded the approach as a bit on the tacky side.

Detective Liner led Twilight to sit with him on a wooden bench in the waiting area, giving a nod to the inn's owner, a heavy-set mustachioed stallion who had taken the place of the night receptionist at the counter. Sheriff Badge and Deputy Surefire dropped their musician disguises by setting down the oversized instrument case and opening it to reveal a standard-issue battering ram. Spike moved to sit across from the two of them, issuing forth a giddy smile as the ram-carriers ventured calmly up the carpeted staircase to the second story. Brass Badge stood the heavy device up against a hoofrail and leaned on it casually while Surefire moved down the hallway. Twilight heard a sharp knock followed by a soft tenor voice.

"Excuse me, Miss Strike? This is housekeeping. We neglected to leave you some fresh towels for your evening shower. Would you mind opening up for a moment?" There was a pause. "Miss Strike, are you in there?"

After a longer pause, Sheriff Badge gave a broad smile to the occupants of the room below and hefted the ram onto his muscular shoulders.

"Okay gentlemen," Detective Liner said calmly as he rose from his seat and slipped on a pair of black shades. "Batter up."

~End A1A~


	9. E02: Tough Crowd (i & ii)

Near-total darkness eclipsed the guest room of the Ponyville Library, only the faintest hint of the golden light from outside making its way to the room's interior. Derpy Hooves lay face-up and spread-eagled under the covers of her bed. Thunderous snores issued forth from her mouth as it widened and contracted. In the midst of deepest slumber, the pegasus mare remained unaware of the bubble coming from her nose that expanded with every exhale. She also paid no heed to the bright glow of the amber pendant on her bedside table. The jewel shone with a brilliant fire from within, not reflecting any of the light from the window. As it began to cast a pale radiance across the ceiling, another pony appeared in the room.

The door had not opened. The window remained shut. Even so, a gray-furred earth pony mare took hold of the chair from a nearby desk and moved it to the side of the bed. Planting herself onto the cushioned seat, she placed a large leather-bound book on the bed and stared at the sleeping Derpy with wistful violet eyes. She leaned forward and opened her mouth as if to speak, but no sound issued forth. The mare looked away, then gave up on the notion entirely, slumping back into the chair and brushing her long black mane out of her eyes. The book flew open, seemingly of its own accord. The light from the amber pendant danced across the pages. The earth pony mare drew in a deep breath.

"The reading is from the Lost History," she said, her voice possessing all the elegance of a finely-tuned pipe organ. "First Book of Kings, Chapter 16, Verse 12." Her lips gave a soft smile. Her violet eyes shone with an ethereal light. "Let us be attentive."

My Little Pony: Lost Legacies

"Tough Crowd"

The trees flew by on all sides at a rapid pace, many of them bearing strange, faintly luminescent red sacs that Derpy did not recognize. All around her were the sounds of panting, grunting, and the occasional vicious shout. Earth pony and pegasus stallions of wildly differing builds charged forth into the underbrush to her front and-as she determined by glancing about-they were indeed all around her. The mass of ponies wore varying degrees of leather and metallic armor, the latter type creating a great clanking cacophony as they ran at full speed. The shouts became clearer to her ears as she grew accustomed to the racket.

"Get that scum-suckin' bushwhacker!"

"Lily-livered frog-walloper! Our steel wants your flesh!"

Much to Derpy's surprise, she found her own voice joining in. "Goose-stepping dandy-hooves! Get your flank back here!"

Derpy's mind reeled. That rustic baritone voice could not have been hers, yet she had felt her mouth move and her vocal chords resonate just as if it had been. Other oddities began to hit Derpy all at once. To be in the middle of this crowd, she'd have to be running. She felt her legs moving, but they seemed to do so of their own accord. She attempted to stop and found that her legs paid no heed to the command. She was able to look about, but was doubly alarmed by the lack of any sensation that she had turned her head. Derpy gulped back the fear that was rising from her gut and experimented a bit. With a strangely painless ease, Derpy discovered that she could turn completely backward and look at the battle-scarred, almost savage faces of the stallions to her rear.

_What the hay is going on here?!_

The ragtag group of armored stallions came to a slow halt as the first orange hues of sunset began to show on the cloudy sky above the treeline. They quickly established a circular formation, brandishing a wide variety of evil-looking weapons outward from the center to oppose incoming threats.

A particular pegasus stallion emerged from the group with a confident, powerful stride. His rust-colored coat seemed to reflect the increasingly orange light of day's end. His leather armor looked more casual than the getups of most of his entourage and was partially hidden by a brown traveler's cloak. He possessed only three distinct markings: his wide-brimmed hat with a white feather plume, his unusually close-shaven blonde mane, and a Cutie Mark that resembled a chain & shackles.

The pegasus snorted. "How in the blazes of Tartarus did you idiots lose him?"

"He's a slippery one, Chief," came a hapless voice from somewhere toward the back. "He was a-divin' 'hind every bush n' branch in this godforsaken patch o' woods."

The chief groaned. "Imagine that, a fugitive taking cover behind trees in a bleeding _forest_!" His wicked eyes cast about dangerously from underneath the brim of his hat. "Might as well be draggin' along a boatload of foals; at least I could sell that lot!"

"He's over there!" came a shout from the far end of the circle. "I saw 'im duck behind that log!"

The chief immediately spotted the fallen tree in the direction that they'd come from; it was the only one large enough to hide a pony and sure enough, the leaves of a bush behind the tree were rustling with movement.

"Well?!" he shouted angrily. "What are you dolts waiting for, a bucking invitation? Get him!"

The mass of stallions lurched as one before charging off in a storm of thundering hooves and a shower of leaves and loam. One pegasus, however, only moved with the crowd for a few seconds before coming to a halt. He wore the helmet and hastily-attached breastplate of a stolen set of bronze armor, which he now discarded to reveal a simple grass-colored cloth shirt and traveler's harness underneath. His slate-gray fur and straight white mane contrasted with his wiry, muscular build, and the black leather-wrapped handle of a claymore protruded from underneath his unassuming cloak.

The gray pegasus stallion chuckled softly to himself, watching the group that he'd been a part of charging off after the wild pig he'd spied a few moments earlier. As he turned about to leave his pursuers to their fate, he felt the tip of a steel blade prick the back of his neck. A peculiar harness of leather straps held the blade's handle flush against the right wing of the one called "Chief".

"How stupid do you think I am?" the chief menaced.

"I don't know," the gray pegasus remarked offhandedly. "What's one hoof plus one hoof?"

"Two hoo-_ooof!_" the chief began to answer reflexively just before getting bowled over by a double-hoofed rear kick from the gray pegasus. The rust-hued leader fought for air with his bruised diaphragm as his target raced off into the wilderness. "I-idiots! Morons! He's over this way!"

Ever since it had occurred to her that she was somehow _inside_ the body of another pony, Derpy had been teetering on the edge of panic. Even the revelation that this gray pegasus wasn't a part of that ferocious-looking gang had only been a small relief. However, in the relative silence that followed his departure from the rowdy pursuers, Derpy began to hear his voice. The mouth that the two shared did not move except to smirk, but she could hear his joyous laughter as if he were standing right by her side. Derpy decided to let go of her fears for the moment and listened closely to the comforting baritone as it voiced emotion that never passed his lips.

_Do you even know that I'm here?_ she wondered.

It had taken a minute for the band of armored stallions to rally around their winded leader, but they now charged forward after their target once more. The chief, whose seldom-uttered name was Iron Bound, led his hunting party with even more confidence than before; he had already reasoned out the strategy of his prey. The gray pegasus had bolted off in the direction of a nearby river, doubtlessly intent on using the running water to throw his pursuers off his trail. The tactic seemed an extraordinarily simple one, but the chief knew for certain that his enemy would use it. It had to have been a question running through the minds of his simple-minded compatriots: why hadn't this pegasus used his wings yet? They would probably see the end of the fugitive's tracks as a sign that he'd taken to the air, or even the treetops, but the chief knew better. The open air offered no cover, and the treetops were too obvious a compromise. His prey had proven himself a veteran of the wilderness, and Iron Bound was sure that the gray pegasus would follow the river downstream to continue his escape.

Iron Bound became less sure of that when he spotted the fugitive resting against a tree up ahead, looking for all the world as if he were waiting on a pretty young mare. He slowed at the sight, though his followers overtook his position and lunged for the kill. "Wait!" he shouted. "Wait, you idiots! Its a tr-"

The forest floor exploded in a shower of multicolored lights and deafening thunderclaps. The initial blast lifted half of the stallions off their hooves; the rest began to yelp in surprise and mill about as they fell under the assault of a spectacular ongoing lightshow. The milling-about turned into a full-blown panic when they realized that various articles of clothing had caught fire. Futile attempts to put out the flames that were dancing about the area were only answered by an even stronger wave of sizzling lights and explosive bangs.

Only having been singed a bit on the outer area of the increasingly flashy mess, Iron Bound spotted a familiar glow in the trees above. "Retreat!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. "He's got a unicorn! Retreat! Back to camp!"

The gray pegasus couldn't resist laughing at the bumbling heap of stallions as they sabotaged each others' attempts to escape from the spellbinding light shower. It was hard for him to believe that he'd actually been afraid for his own life when this chase started. Even when the last of the undignified retreat before him had run its course, the guffaws just kept coming up from inside.

A similarly gray-furred unicorn mare dropped down from the tree branches above and stared at the pegasus coldly. The last of the dancing flames cast a strobe effect across her delicate features. She tossed her black hair in a show of irritation, the various bird-feather ornaments within her mane clacking together as she did so. "Is this funny to you, Cross?"

"Fireworks?" the pegasus stallion managed between giggles as he wiped away a solitary tear. "You are so very lucky that they didn't have a unicorn of their own." He smiled broadly. "D'you think you could have passed for a Sorceress?"

"I don't depend on luck," the mare replied, drawing the folds of her navy cloak about her. "I'd have left you here if the spell failed to impress."

"Don't put on airs, Feather," said Cross as the hilarity in his voice began to die down. "You'd be bored silly without me."

"And I'll starve with you," the one called Feather continued. "Where are your saddlebags?" She raised an eyebrow. "More importantly, where are the supplies that you were supposed to bring back in them?"

"With that lot," Cross answered, gesturing in the direction of the retreating stallions. The smile left his face. "They're slavers, Feather. You ought to know by now that those blighters trade in death, not groceries." He cleared his throat. "Wish I'd seen through their ruse 'fore they pinched my bags. They'd have had me in shackles too if I wasn't so quick on my hooves."

Feather sighed. "Is it too much to ask that we have just _one_ uneventful supply run?"

"I'd settle for a prosperous one," Cross amended, moving toward the river. "Let's get back to camp, shall we? Make the best of what we've got tonight and strike out in search of better fortune on the 'morrow."

Feather began to follow, her shoulders in a slump and her head held low. "Leftovers with crushed hopes for seasoning . . . my favorite."

_Hope you don't mind this state of affairs,_ Cross thought. _Wish I could offer something besides thrice-heated soup for your first meal._

Derpy snapped out of her depressed silence at the voice that had directly addressed her. _You can hear me?_

_That I can,_ Cross replied. _Though I'm not sure whether it's a blessing or a curse at the moment._ The voice of his thoughts became openly jovial, despite his words. _My name's Silver Cross, little fairy. What's yours?_

LL


	10. E02: Tough Crowd (iii)

_So, I'm a fairy now?_ Derpy Hooves questioned, still not quite able to accept the term.

_Why is that strange? Have you ever been anything else?_ Cross replied as he tied a string around a nearby tree branch, a strangely contorted crystal hanging from its length. He tapped the crystal, causing it to swing evenly like a metronome and issue forth a barely audible humming noise.

Night had fallen in the time since Derpy had begun her conversation with Cross, and Derpy had found it very difficult to wrap her head–if she even had a head of her own anymore–around the idea that she now shared a body with this pegasus stallion. According to Cross, a similar thing had happened to his grandmother. She would often speak to voices in her own head and told her grandson that she'd been blessed by the faeries with eternal companionship for a life well-lived. Ancient lore described the faeries as mystical creatures who drifted in and out of the minds of mortals and offered them wisdom in times of need, but Cross had always seen the legends as mythical until today.

_Why didn't you answer me in the first place?_ Derpy had asked him upon hearing that. _It sounds like you were surprised._

_Either faeries are real, or I'm going crazy,_ Cross had replied. _Whichever is the case, panicking surely wouldn't have helped matters._

Silver Cross and the unicorn mare, whose full name was Feather Quill, had set up camp in only a few minutes' time. The campfire crackled and snapped as it illuminated the clearing they'd found with a warm orange glow. An iron pot sat suspended over the flames, whatever was for dinner gurgling away inside. It couldn't have been too appetizing; Feather Quill's expression remained blank except for a mild scowl as she stirred at the mixture with an enchanted ladle.

_Does she ever smile?_ Derpy asked.

_She used to,_ Cross answered as he strung up another humming crystal. _Hasn't really done it much since we left the homeland._

_Where are you two from, anyway?_

Cross tapped the newly-strung crystal, the last in a ring of them that encircled the campsite. _Not a subject I enjoy discussing, little fairy._ Having finished his task, he sat down next to the campfire. "Parasprite wards are in place, my lady," Cross announced with more flair than necessary, gesturing to the nearby trees with red sacs that Derpy hadn't recognized. "Though I'm not terribly sure how much we'll need them, what with all the eater trees hanging about."

"There's no sense in taking risks that we can avoid," Feather Quill remarked impassively, her pale lavender eyes fixed on the task in front of her. "Besides, those trees are about as much of a blessing as the rest of this stretch of woods has been." She prodded a nearby water gourd to show how easily it rocked back and forth. "The parasprite eaters have polluted the groundwater; even the river was somewhat rainbow-colored." Her frown grew slightly. "And now our fresh water supply is low. Color me surprised."

_Was that a pun?_ Derpy wondered.

Silver Cross chuckled. "Sure you didn't hit up a bit of the rainbow water while I was away? Almost sounds like you've contracted a mild sense of humor."

Feather's eyes narrowed as she looked up from her task. "If that's the case, then I'll have to shove you into some Poison Joke tomorrow to nurse it. There's bound to be heaps of it growing somewhere around here with a river full of rainbows."

"Sorry I asked," Cross remarked as Feather levitated a wooden bowl from a nearby haversack. "So, what might be the name of this evening's repast?"

"Leek broth," Feather answered as she filled a bowl and passed it to Cross. "For lack of normal seasoning, I've added some essence of 'Doubt in our General Direction' and a pinch of 'Regret for Opportunities Missed'."

Cross received the bowl with a questioning gaze. "Good Lord. Those aren't real flavors, are they?"

Derpy suddenly discovered that she shared Cross's sense of taste when he took his first sip of the tan-colored leafy mixture. The intensely bitter sensation would have wiped out her own taste buds, but Cross seemed to take it in stride. _I sure hope that it's full of vitamins,_ Derpy commented.

"More like genuine concerns," said Feather as she made a bowl for herself. "We only have enough drinking water for another day's travel. I'm fostering a growing distrust for the viability of the local vegetation. We're fresh out of hardtack, and we're more than a week's travel from the last trading post." She took a draught from the bowl. "No offense intended, but I'm seriously considering taking a risk on the trek back to civilization rather than on promises in a book of fairy tales."

_You're here 'cause of a book?_ Derpy asked. _You're supposed to read those, not base your life on them._ A new thought entered Derpy's mind. _Are you going to a convention?_

If Cross had an answer for that question, he failed to volunteer it as he looked up from his meal. "I didn't hear you complain when it served us well."

"That was then," Feather replied. "And 'then' was quite some time ago. It seems like we've been living on the edge of starvation for the past few months. Looking back, I can only blame your stubbornness for this state of affairs" Her voice took on the tone of a considerate appeal. "We've passed up plenty of decent towns and villages over the years. For a while, I actually believed that these 'Green Pastures' of yours were just over the horizon. It's different now. We're way beyond the borders of civilization; I don't think anypony's ever journeyed this far. Did those slavers even have any captives?"

Cross shook his head.

"See what I mean?" Feather continued. "They were probably ready to give up and head back the way we came before they ran into you, and I'm starting to think that they've got the right idea."

Cross put down his empty bowl and looked straight into Feather's eyes. "I didn't leave the homeland in search of a 'decent' substitute."

"Did you leave it in search of death?" Feather asked bluntly. "Because that's all that's left in the place that we called home, and that's all we're going to find out here in the wilderness if we keep pushing our luck."

Cross smiled, which caused a bit of surprise to show on his friend's face. "You don't believe in luck, Feather," he said in a measured tone. "And I don't either. I only believe in the words of the Tome, and according to them we are closer than ever to the paradise of Green Pastures." He rose to his hooves and began to retreat to his bedroll. "Faith had in times of plenty has little value. You should try having some now."

"Faith and an empty sack is worth the sack," Feather retorted, reaching for her bowl to finish her largely untouched dinner. "Just wait until we have to burn that book to make a fire; then we'll have a talk about faith."

"Good night, Feather," Cross said with a yawn as he tucked himself in. "'Twill be a better day tomorrow."

"For how many tomorrows?" Feather Quill muttered under her breath before returning to the broth.

Derpy felt a chill run through her. _Do you feel that?_

_Feel what?_ Cross replied.

It occurred to Derpy that it might simply be her own reaction to the words of the unicorn mare. _I don't know if I trust Feather,_ she began. _But what if she's right? What if you starve out here?_

Derpy felt Cross smile as his mind began to fade into slumber. _It'll come to something worse before it comes to that, my little fairy._

LL


	11. E02: Tough Crowd (iv)

With the dawn came a rolling fog bank from the south. The land-bound cloud consumed the forest in a thick, coiling mist that reduced visibility, made the air feel muggy and stagnant, and even seemed to swallow up all the sounds of the forest's wildlife. The sea of trees took on a haunting, dreamlike quality that didn't seem to affect Silver Cross at all as he trekked along the side of a river that shone faintly with the full spectrum of a rainbow.

_You sure you don't want to wake Feather up?_ Derpy inquired.

_Why?_ said Cross. _D'you miss her already?_

_No way,_ Derpy replied hastily. _But isn't she your friend?_

Cross sighed. _She's a very depressed friend at the moment. I thought I'd find something to cheer her up before we set off this morning._

Derpy thought for a moment before responding. _What if she wakes up while we're gone?_

_We, huh?_ thought Cross with a small hint of amusement. _I don't know what she'd think about you, Miss Derpy Hooves, but Feather knows that I won't keep her waiting._

The river's pace had been increasing as they walked, and the noise that it produced was beginning to near a roar. Derpy soon saw the reason why; the flowing water dropped off a sudden cliff just a few yards ahead.

_What are you looking for, anyway?_ Derpy wondered.

Silver Cross walked up to the edge of the cliff and looked down into the narrow valley. Across from their position, Derpy could see a range of steep mountains, their bases obscured by the morning fog. The distance between the cliff and the mountains was so short that it was not hard to imagine a rope bridge of sufficient length connecting the two. The valley itself was less of the expanse that its name implied and more of a gash in the landscape, appearing as if some gargantuan knife had cut it into the surrounding terrain. Patches of trees grew on ledges of varying height, and another waterfall could be spied on the opposite side, suggesting that the resultant river below probably ran out to the ocean. The cascades of falling water combined with the pervasive mist cast multiple tiny rainbows that almost appeared to be the very bridges that the small canyon lacked.

The sight was quite beautiful to look at, but it only added to Derpy's confusion. _This will make Feather happy?_

_Probably not,_ Cross quipped before pointing directly down. _But that will._

Derpy looked in the direction of Cross's hoof to see a substantial ledge just below. In fact, it was wide and consistent enough that it obviously served as a trail down into the valley. Currently traversing that trail at a snail's pace was none other than the band of armored stallions from the previous day. Derpy would have recoiled from the edge if it were possible. _Whoa!_ she exclaimed. _I thought you wanted to get away from these guys!_

Cross smirked. _We're not going after them, Derpy. Can you tell what this means?_

Derpy tried to think past her initial reaction. _That we should go back?_

_They're moving south,_ Cross continued with not the slightest hint of condescension. _Further into uncharted territory, at least by our reckoning. I got a good look at them yesterday too. They were gaunt, hungry, tired even. Their supplies are probably in about the same shape that ours are._ He smiled. _Now why would they head away from known civilization if they're in that state?_

_There's something down there,_ Derpy replied quickly.

_Aye,_ Cross affirmed. _Probably a small village, or at least a trading post._

_No,_ Derpy corrected. _I mean there's something yellow down there._

Cross looked more closely at the band of slavers to see a golden-hued mare on the shackle line being tugged along cruelly and prodded onward by a riding crop. Derpy felt Cross's throat tighten.

"Bleeding vipers," Cross muttered aloud. "They've got themselves a prisoner."

Both observers felt the sharp prick of a blade poking Cross in the backside.

"That they do, matey," said a raspy voice from behind. "That they do."

Derpy yelped inside his head at the sensation, but Cross's voice came out calm and a bit curious. "Rat Fink?"

"Got it in one," came the reply. The thin blade tapped Cross with its flat. "On yer hooves now; no funny business."

Cross rose and turned about slowly, the point of the blade at his throat every step of the way. He found himself staring at a swamp-green earth pony wearing a black eyepatch and a burgundy do-rag that partially covered his filthy graying mane. A brown vest hung off his wiry frame in tatters. His Cutie Mark resembled a wooden stool with a gray bird on top. The rapier against Cross's neck remained aloft by way of a hoof harness.

"Fancy that," Cross mused. "You actually lived through that mess in the catacombs."

"Aye, but not all in one piece," the one called Rat Fink elaborated while flashing his eyepatch. "An' certainly no thanks t' you."

_You know this guy?_ Derpy asked, partially calmed by Cross' mannerisms.

_'Know' is a strong word,_ Cross answered to Derpy's question. _More of an unpleasant acquaintance, although even that is a bit flattering._ He smirked. _He's not much of a problem, really. Watch this._

"What're you grinnin' at?" Fink snarled, the variance in his tone suggesting the presence of a bold front.

"It doesn't seem that you've thought this one out well at all, _matey_," Cross replied, staring directly into Fink's remaining yellow eye. "D'you really suppose that you can do me in with that tiny thing 'fore my claymore makes your head into a souvenir?" His smile grew wider. "And don't tell me that you've forgotten 'bout my partner."

The tip of a stylized dagger prodded Cross's midsection as a familiar voice said, "He didn't."

_Wha?!_ Derpy exclaimed.

Silver Cross glanced to his left to find Feather Quill using the pinkish glow of her magic to hold the weapon at his side. The same magic began to pull his claymore out of its scabbard and out of his reach. He sighed heavily. "Feather dear, I thought we had a talk about finding the right kind of friends." He raised an eyebrow. "I told you not to bring home anything scruffy."

Feather Quill's expression remained characteristically impassive. "You should have seen this coming, Cross."

"Mayhaps you can call yerself 'Double Cross' from now on," Fink jeered. "That is, if yer called anythin' at all after yer new chums down there are done with ye."

"Wouldn't that be 'Double Crossed'?" Silver Cross shot back, although Derpy could feel actual fear creeping into his mind. "Shame on your teachers, snotnose."

Fink prodded Cross's neck with the rapier and drew blood. "I'll teach you somethin' alright if you don't move that flank."

_Whatever it is,_ Derpy cautioned. _I don't wanna learn it._

LL


	12. E02: Tough Crowd (v)

The path below did in fact lead to the canyon floor, its winding road becoming ever more obscure as the fog grew thicker. By the time that it began to widen out near the bottom, Silver Cross could barely see for three feet in any direction. The sharp blades of the two ponies to either side of him poked and prodded as they moved, both of them wary of any false moves.

_Not much of a problem, huh?_ Derpy commented. _What're we gonna do now?_

_Stay calm, for the moment,_ Cross replied before turning to the stone-faced Feather. "Y'know, it puzzles me, dear comrade. How on earth can you stomach the thought of teaming up with this miserable blighter?"

Fink pressed his dagger against Cross's neck. "I thought I told you to keep that gob shut."

"Take it easy, Fink," said Feather. "He's no more threat to you."

"I'll take it any way I darn well please," Fink shot back with a wave of his rapier. "We're partners in this, 'member? Equal cuts."

Cross ignored Fink and kept his gaze on Feather. "So, it all comes down to a matter of bits then?"

"A matter of preference, actually," answered Feather, her hair ornaments tossing about as she walked. "I'm done risking my life on the words of dead ponies. Besides, this way we both get what we want. I get enough supplies to make it back to civilization while you get to travel further south with these fine chaps." She gestured ahead.

The three ponies had reached the canyon floor, and the vague outline of slavers' encampment could be seen at the base of the cliff. Even with the limited sight distance, Cross could tell that the flora here was much thicker and more lush than in the forest above. He also spied a faint blue glow coming from thickets of unearthly flowers nearby.

"Oh, fantastic," Cross quipped. "I get to go on a field trip with bunglers who make camp in the middle of Poison Joke gardens."

"They don't got much choice; stuff grows everywhere down here," Fink growled, smiling wickedly. "Watch yer step. Wouldn't want anythin' bad to happen to ye."

A rust-colored pegasus strode forth from the encampment, tipping his wide-brimmed hat to the party. "I don't believe it," he declared. "How did your mangy hide actually manage to deliver where this whole mess of hooligans failed?"

"All in the skill, Mr. Bound," Fink crooned as he brought Cross to a halt. "'Tis all in the skill."

Iron Bound stopped suddenly. "Why haven't you trussed up that unicorn wench?"

"Because I'm the 'skill' he's referring to," Feather answered, cutting off Fink's reply. "We've agreed to equal shares of the bounty, although I'd like to substitute half the bits on my end for five days' water and hardtack."

Iron Bound looked her in the eye for a moment, then responded, "Well, 'never let a bit of bad blood sour a good deal' I always say." He made a sharp clicking sound with his teeth. A stallion rose from a nearby cooking fire. "Fetch me 75 bits and five days' trail rations." The stallion dashed off into the mist. Iron Bound walked right up to Silver Cross. "You had a good laugh at my expense yesterday," he seethed. "But I suppose that the joke's on you after all."

"Not sure I get it if that's the case," Cross retorted, a defiant smile on his lips. "Is the funny part where this piece of pond scum somehow outdid you and your whole crew?"

_CRACK!_

Iron Bound's full-hoofed haymaker smashed into Cross's face and sent him sprawling on the ground. "No," he vented, his voice full of unrestrained anger. "The funny part is where you get the will to live beaten out of you and I sell your soulless husk to the Diamond Dogs as a chew toy." He turned toward the encampment. "Halfnose, Hope Dasher!" A pair of tough-looking stallions approached wordlessly. "Get this flankface on the shackle line."

The muscular henchmen hauled Cross's half-conscious form from the forest loam and roughly dragged him toward the main encampment, passing a stallion carrying the bounty in a pair of haversacks on the way. They dropped him back to the ground next to the yellow earth pony mare he'd seen earlier and began to tighten a pair of iron shackles around his joints.

_Okay,_ Derpy commented. _Do we panic now?_

The voice brought Cross back from the inky blackness. He swiveled his eyes back to where he'd stood just a few seconds before to witness a minor disagreement unfold.

"One condition," Iron Bound stated as he deliberately withheld Feather's portion of the bounty. "Supplies are worth more to us right now than money." He gestured to the object slung across her back. "I'll be taking his sword too."

Feather's gaze narrowed. It occurred to Cross that this was the most emotion that he'd seen from his traitorous partner all morning. Whatever she considered in that moment though, was quickly dismissed. She levitated the sword & scabbard, laying them to rest at Iron Bound's hooves. "May I leave now?" she asked discourteously. "I've got a lot of ground to cover."

Iron Bound relinquished the haversack to her possession. "I like your professionalism, Miss Unicorn. Perhaps one day we'll do business again."

"I doubt it," Feather stated coldly as she disappeared in a flash of pink light.

Both Fink and Iron Bound recoiled a bit as she did so. Iron Bound spat contemptuously. "Hornmongers. Never did have a taste for their kind."

Fink chuckled darkly as he retrieved his share of the bounty. "Can't argue with they handiwork though."

Another sound much closer to Cross summoned his attention. The earth pony mare shackled in line next to him was sobbing softly, clearly muting her voice so as not to anger the slavers. Her coat of brilliant yellow complemented her curly but well-kept mane's shade of auburn. She bore a Cutie Mark that resembled a pair of wheat tillers with floret spikes at the tips, and it shook along with the rest of her form as she tried to hide her sorrow from those who might beat her for it.

_Seriously, Mister Cross!_ Derpy lamented. _That's gonna be us if you don't do something!_

"What's your name, lass?" Cross half-coughed around the swelling of his left cheek.

The earth pony mare looked up at him for the first time. When she spoke, her high-pitched voice sounded much younger than her appearance had let on. "What does it matter now?"

"They've taken your freedom," Cross admonished. "They can't take your name; 'tis yours to give."

The mare studied his bruised face with tearful eyes. "Golden Harvest," she whispered.

Cross smiled. "You have a beautiful name, Miss Harvest, but you should try having a bit more faith." He closed his eyes. "That which is beautiful in this world does not suffer needlessly."

Golden Harvest looked away from him as if angered somewhat, but she did not return to sobbing.

_You say that a lot,_ Derpy observed. _Does having 'faith' really make a difference?_

_Certainly not on its own,_ Cross responded. _But knowing in your heart that everything will turn out as it should clears away many stumbling blocks that we set before ourselves._

"What d'you mean yor not gonna kill 'im?" Fink shouted.

Cross turned his attention back to the bottom of the cliff, mildly surprised that Rat Fink had remained.

"Why did you assume that I would?" Iron Bound rebuffed. "I happen to be in the slave trade; I never waste a good set of working muscles."

_What does this guy have against you anyway?_ asked Derpy.

_He's got quite a few reasons to dislike me,_ Cross answered in mental monotone. _It's just that most of them are his own bloody fault._

Fink stomped his front hooves. "I thought you was out fer revenge after he made fools outta you n' yor gang."

Iron Bound waved dismissively. "To my mind, a lifetime of slavery is far better vengeance than a quick execution." He stared dangerously at Rat Fink. "I think you'd best be on your way, friend. You've got what you wanted."

Fink's contorted expression made his dissatisfaction plainly apparent. He cast about as if in search of something as Iron Bound began to walk away. Before the rust-hued pegasus had gotten too far out of earshot, he found it. "You're not gonna want to keep him alive, Chief," Fink shouted with a hint of smugness. "He's a stinkin' Topian."

Iron Bound whirled about in an instant. "He's a WHAT?!"

_What's a _toh-pea-uhn_?_ Derpy wondered.

Cross groaned. "That moron . . ."

Iron Bound marched right back to Fink's position. The green stallion's smugness faded from his face. Open-mouthed dread replaced it as Iron Bound grabbed him by his vest's collar and nearly lifted him bodily. The chief's voice dripped with anger. "You mean to tell me that you brought a bleeding TOPIAN into my camp and didn't think to tell me about it?!"

Fink's pupils had narrowed to pinpricks. "I- Um- I didn't think you'd try to . . . y'know . . ."

Iron Bound hauled Fink by his collar and flung the unlucky wretch through the air. Fink came to a harsh landing several feet away as the chief barked orders. "Halfnose, Hope Dasher! Put this piece of filth on the shackle line! Bring me the Topian!"

"WHAT?!" Fink screeched, all pretense at hiding his naturally high-pitched voice now gone. "You can't do that! We had a deal!"

"We did indeed," said Iron Bound. "One viable slave for 100 bits. Since the one that you brought me is no use, I'll have to take your sorry hide instead."

Rat Fink tried to fight back against the slavers, but a single strong punch to the jaw was all that it took to reduce him to a whimpering invalid. They stripped his gear and dragged him toward the next set of manacles on the iron chain. Cross felt his own shackles released for a moment only to feel a similar, portable pair lock tightly into place. The two goons dragged him roughly before their chief and forced him to kneel.

Iron Bound snorted angrily, but a hint of curiosity shone through in his voice. "So you're one of those rotten plague-carriers as well?"

Cross looked up at him with a half-grin. "Is that what you heard about my people?"

"'Tis all one needs to hear," Iron Bound responded, taking Cross's claymore off his own shoulders to examine it. "I never thought I'd see one for meself. Who knows? Maybe I still haven't." A dark scowl crossed his face. "Not that it matters; I won't take the risk of spreading pestilence this far from civilization proper." He handed the sword and scabbard to one of the two subordinates holding Cross down. "Hope Dasher, take this diseased filth ten minutes' march north to the clearing at the other end of the canyon. Snuff him out with his own pigsticker and burn the corpse."

Hope Dasher received the sword with reverence. "It'd be mah pleasure, Chief."

LL


	13. E02: Tough Crowd (vi)

Golden Harvest watched a flock of birds rise from the trees to the north and felt tears welling in her eyes at the sight.

One space over from her on the shackle line, Rat Fink sighed as if he'd just finished a large meal. "Well, least somethin' good come out o' all this."

Golden whirled on her fellow captive, her wide eyes ablaze with anger.

"Whoa missy," Fink responded, trying to hold up his chained front hooves. "Don't ye begrudge a man the satisfaction of 'is enemy gettin' 'is due. Ye only knew 'im for but a moment." His gaze became distant. "I knew 'im fer years 'fore now, an' he was a regular villain thru n' thru."

Golden's emerald eyes narrowed. "I know a villain when I see one, Mr. Fink."

Fink smiled. "Seems it didn't help ye much in avoidin' this lot." He edged closer, rattling the shackle line. "But let's not have bad blood come 'twixt us. We're mateys on the line now; 'tis almost like bein' bunkmates." He licked his lips.

Golden shuddered. "You lay one hoof on me and I'll throttle you with your own chains," she seethed.

Fink had wanted to come across as confidently sly, but his true nature showed when the smile on his face vanished amid a round of shivers. "Perish the thought," he muttered quietly. He began to turn away from the hateful mare when he felt a tingling feeling in his front hooves. He looked at them just in time to see his manacles unlatch. Thinking quickly, Fink caught them before they hit the ground and began to snigger. He turned back to Golden. "Looks like it really 'tis my lucky day." His joyous tone died in his throat when he saw the mare lift one unchained hoof to her face in shock. He gulped. "You too?"

Golden Harvest nodded slowly.

"Help!" came a sudden shout from across the fog. "It's the Topian! He's escaped! He's over he-AAUGH!"

Rat Fink dropped his chains and dusted his hooves. "Well, that's that then."

"What do you mean?" Golden Harvest asked unthinkingly, casting about to see the slavers' reactions. She focused on Fink to see him plotting a course. "You're going to try to run through all these hooligans?"

"I mean to say that I'm gettin' while the gettin's good," Fink replied. "And ye'd best do the same." A look of wide-eyed terror arose from his face. "I've seen wot comes next before. Just gets messier from 'ere."

When the shout regarding the Topian rang through the mist, Iron Bound looked up with alarm from a map spread over a makeshift log table.

"That sounds like Yellow Belly," said the tall earth pony sitting across from him in his gruff, no-nonsense voice.

The entire camp listened collectively, not entirely believing what they'd heard and waiting for a continuance. The next sound that came through the fog was the panicked clucking of a chicken.

The earth pony at the table raised an eyebrow. "I didn't think we had any of those along."

"We don't," Iron Bound replied just before another cry sounded, closer this time.

"No! I'm just the bookkeeper! No, don't- AAAAUGH!"

An earth pony suddenly came into view as his body hurtled through the air toward the table and landed squarely in a patch of the glowing blue flowers a few yards away. He picked himself up and immediately doubled over, holding both front legs around his gut. Most who were watching expected to see a grisly wound, but the earth pony instead began vomiting heaps of golden coins.

Iron Bound spread his wings toward the ground, the blades held underneath sliding out as he did so. The weapons clicked as they locked into an extended position. "Rally to me!" he shouted. "Kill the Topian; don't bother taking him alive! And for crying out loud, don't let yourself touch the Poison Joke!"

The chief looked about wildly as fresh screams rang out from multiple directions. At first, it seemed as if the Topian—who'd somehow survived his execution—was moving fast, striking quickly and dashing to the next target before he could be pinned down. However, as the panicked cries increased in multitude, Iron Bound realized that there had to be more than one assailant. But how? Iron Bound's wondering ceased when the form of Silver Cross charged through the mist, brandishing the beautiful claymore in his powerful jaws and headed straight for his companion's position.

"Big Melon," Iron Bound signaled to the burly earth pony. "Put an end to this."

The large stallion, whose battle gauntlets showed a preference for hoofticuffs, reared up on two hooves and assumed a fighting stance. "Don't worry; I got him, Chief."

Iron Bound readied his own blades, planning to slice the Topian to ribbons when either of the two combatants fell. However, the second that Melon's hooves hit the charging pegasus, Cross's form exploded into a plume of pinkish smoke. The earth pony stallion overbalanced and toppled into a nearby patch of perilous blue flowers with a resounding thud. Iron Bound watched in awe as Melon's head grew to twice the size of his body. The now impossibly deformed earth pony struggled to get up, but it was no use; his legs could no longer even touch the ground.

"I don't got him, Chief," Big Melon said in his gruff, no-nonsense voice.

"IDIOTS!" Iron Bound howled above the screams from the fog. "Stand right where you are! The Topian is dead! You're seeing illusions! It's a bloody magic trick!"

The shouts and cries did not cease. Another Silver Cross appeared from the fog, this time charging for the chief himself.

"Find the unicorn!" Iron Bound shouted, standing his ground and staring down the illusion that didn't return his gaze. "She's got to be behind this!" The image was almost upon him. From this close, the chief could spot the lack of detail that gave the slightly hazy image away as a fake. He smiled confidently. "It's a trick!" he repeated above the din. "The Topian isn't here!"

The image of the charging pegasus exploded into pink mist just three feet away. A very real Silver Cross emerged from it, the broken chain of his manacles dragging the ground as the point of his gleaming blade moved with lightning speed. Iron Bound didn't even have time to look surprised before the sword buried itself to the hilt in his heart. The slaver fell to the ground in a patch of Poison Joke, a confident smile forever transfixed on his lifeless visage. Even after the claymore had long withdrawn from his chest, the glowing blue flowers changed nothing, apparently satisfied with what had come to them.

* * *

From the very moment when Cross had broken his bonds and turned his blade back against his would-be executioners, Derpy had found it a struggle to keep her eyes open. Even though Cross controlled his own eyelids, Derpy found she could still shut out what he saw if she wanted to. Right now, she most certainly wanted to. However, even turning her vision away from the horribly violent scenes playing out around her did not shut out the noise. The blood-curdling screams and desperate cries of the slavers-turned-victims echoed in her ears. The wet slicing and chopping of the claymore at work would have sickened her if her stomach was her own. Derpy kept her eyes shut and tried her best to ignore the sounds, but the more she did this, the more she became aware of something even worse that was rising up from the inside of her currently joined consciousness.

Hearing a lull in the battle and feeling that Cross wasn't currently killing something, she cautiously squinted and hoped that the whole thing was over with. Perhaps Cross had decided to show mercy after all? What she saw immediately informed her that this was not so. Silver Cross dashed headlong at a pair of slavers who had seen enough of the Topian's handiwork to know that running was the only option. Cross used his wings to extend his jumps over the Poison Joke flowers and add bursts of speed to his stride; it was clear that the clumsy pair to his front only had seconds left to live.

One of the two, a lightly armored pegasus stallion, panicked and took to the air, perhaps hoping that the grim-faced avenger behind would go for the easier kill. However, his trajectory had made him suddenly predictable. Derpy felt Cross turn his head mightily and fling his spinning claymore skyward. The whirling blade caught the pegasus in the shoulder with enough force to cleave down to his waist. A surprised wail died in his throat with a gurgle just before he dropped like a stone. Cross gave a powerful flap of his wings and rose into the air, tearing his claymore from the plummeting pony in a somersault and coming down hard on the other slaver in the next instant.

Derpy closed her eyes again, but knew from the sound and sensation of the handle in Cross's mouth that the earth pony slaver had just lost his head. In the darkness caused by her avoidance of the merciless violence that continued unabated, Derpy only had Cross's inner consciousness for company. What she felt and heard from it seemed completely unrelated to the pony she'd gotten to know so far. Given the way that Cross had described his past, Derpy had expected him to feel guilt and shame as he fought for his life. However, the mind of the warrior pegasus positively glowed with malevolent glee. His mind spun faster than his blade, constantly evaluating the battlefield and coming up with creative and satisfying ways to bring death to his foes. His lack of fear astounded Derpy; his enjoyment of the situation even more so. As she dared to look closer though, she realized that he was not reveling in the deaths of the slavers. Cross felt delight at the removal of complications. A single task was now before him and he was free from worry or consideration. All that was left was the chance to use his talent to its fullest extent, and Cross could not help but feel the same joy that an artist might feel when painting, or a singer when performing.

All of this Derpy had begun to understand as she effectively put her ear to Cross's heart, but it was not what worried her. Behind the workings of his inner mind, Derpy felt something else stirring. It was hard to identify, and she felt almost _instinctively_ afraid of it. It was a mess, a whirling jumble of discarded thoughts that grew and grew as Cross's mind worked faster and faster. It was a tornado within the tornado, but it reeked of contradiction and a savage emotion that was a far cry even from the joy of combat. Derpy did her best to ignore the byproduct, but it grew ever larger with each passing second. She did her best to hide away in a corner of her mind and not think about the part she'd played in all this.

LL


	14. E02: Tough Crowd (vii & viii)

"You can open your eyes, now," said Cross.

Derpy followed the command and found herself staring directly into the tearful eyes of the yellow-furred mare who'd been on the shackle line.

"Is it over?" asked Golden Harvest, her voice wavering.

A unicorn mare became visible through the fog, using her magic to clear the mists away. "It is for them," Feather Quill responded as she hopped over a dismembered corpse.

_Feather?_ Derpy thought. _You mean she . . ._

"Why hello, old chum," Cross remarked playfully as he cleaned his crimsoned sword on a patch of grass. "Made the routine a bit obscure this time, didn't you? One normally expects _some_ kind of advance notice, what?"

_You're kidding,_ thought Derpy.

"It was an act?" Golden Harvest said incredulously.

"Most of it was," Feather Quill half-coughed after inhaling a bit of smoke from an extinguished campfire. "Though I didn't count on them taking the sword." She grimaced. "Or on Fink to get you sentenced to death and himself put on the shackle line."

"Why not make a note of that one?" Cross joked as Golden Harvest's mouth hung open. "Next time, count on the idiot to be an idiot." He smiled ruefully. "It wouldn't be a bad idea to let your jolly partner know what's up before he gets beaten n' enslaved either."

If Feather was sorry, she didn't show it. "You can blame your friend Fink for that as well. He surprised me at camp just an hour after you went to sleep, and he wasn't in the mood for any tricks. Fink might be a dunce, but he knows us well enough. If I'd tipped you off to what I had planned, he would have known."

"Fair enough," said Cross as he sheathed the newly polished blade. "I think good old Fink's even been on the receiving end of the 'Number 5' before. Good call on your part, Feather."

Derpy could have sworn that she saw the beginnings of a smile on the gray unicorn's face.

"Mine always are," Feather replied.

"Amazing," Golden Harvest gasped, drawing the attention of her saviors. "The two of you are truly seasoned warriors."

"Campaigners, properly," Cross responded. "Although the greater error in this case is my own, young lass." He gestured with a flourish toward the yellow pony while facing his partner. "Feather, may I present Lady Golden Harvest, the only flower in this valley fit to adorn a bouquet."

"A pleasure," Feather Quill said impassively as Golden Harvest blushed.

Cross made the same gesture toward Feather. "And this, Miss Harvest, is Feather Quill - the stone-faced, stone-colored, stone-hearted-" He winced as something small impacted his side. "Stone-_throwing_ Beauty of the Northerlands, Sorceress Extraordinaire."

"'Tis an honor, truly," Golden Harvest managed while stifling a giggle. "Only a Sorceress could have cast such a spell."

Feather Quill raised an eyebrow for a second before pulling back her cloak. Emblazoned on her flank was a Cutie Mark resembling a quill pen dipped into a red ink well. "Try not to take Cross too seriously," Feather advised. "I'm no Sorceress. Like all unicorns, my most powerful spell stems from my talent. I was a scribe before I became a traveler, and I can use my magic to bring the phantoms of my imagination to life, at least in the eyes of others."

Golden Harvest paid rapt attention as Feather spoke, but she quickly turned to Cross in the same instant that Feather ceased to do so. "And you, sir?"

The pegasus stallion stood a bit slack-jawed. "Didn't I introduce myself before?"

_Nope,_ Derpy answered.

"Oh," said Cross, seemingly to no one. His confident smile returned as he reared up on his hind legs, one hoof resting on the handle of his claymore. As his cloak fell away, it revealed his Cutie Mark to be a whirling cyclone with a cross-like sword of gunmetal gray at its center. "Silver Cross, the upstanding citizen-soldier turned good-for-nothing vagabond at your service."

"Well, good for one thing anyway," Feather corrected as she glanced about at the destruction revealed by the clearing mist.

"Now then," Cross began as he came back down from his pose and walked toward the now-visible supply cart of the slaver band. "With our supplies replenished, we can venture wherever we wish." He paused to look the items over before turning back. "Though right now, I really wish I knew where the nearest town is."

"My hometown is just a day's journey to the southeast," Golden Harvest volunteered enthusiastically.

"Truly?" Feather remarked, her voice suddenly full of obvious curiosity. "Did you tell the slavers this? Was that why they made the trek into this canyon?"

Golden Harvest looked to the side for a moment before responding. "I'm afraid so. They beat it out of me when I was first captured last night." Her gaze fell to the ground. "I'm not as strong as the two of you; I blurted it out without thinking."

"Say," Cross ventured, taking a step toward the yellow earth pony. "This hometown of yours, it isn't overrun with this Poison Joke stuff, is it?"

"Oh no," Golden Harvest replied as a smile returned to her face. "It's a beautiful place, Mr. Cross, and I'm sure that all the townsfolk will be so very grateful when they learn that you took care of these nasty villains."

"Gratitude is good," Feather mused.

"Just wait 'till you see it," Golden Harvest continued, a faraway look in her eyes. "Have you ever been to a place where _green pastures_ just go on and on as far as the eye can see?"

Silver Cross turned slowly to Feather Quill with a massive grin plastered on his face. "Can't say that I have. Sounds like a veritable _paradise_ though, right Feather?."

Feather stared back coldly. "If I hear anything even _remotely_ resembling an 'I told you so' come out of that mouth of yours . . ."

The midday sun shone down from high above as the trio of ponies left the canyon to find a simple wooden bridge that crossed over the wide river flowing from the north. A well-traveled dirt road curved its way across the landscape to either side of the bridge. As they casually took to the southeast, Feather Quill occupied herself with asking pointed questions of Golden Harvest, leaving Silver Cross to tow the supply cart at the rear. All about the three of them were emerald waves of grass that flowed over the hillocks to dark treelines and mountains in the distance.

_Are you quite alright, little fairy?_ he asked. _You've been terribly quiet since the battle._ There was no answer. _Were you frightened?_

_Yes,_ came the timid response.

_Of the slavers?_ Cross questioned. _Or of me?_

_Both, I think,_ Derpy replied.

Cross smiled. _'Tis nothing to be ashamed of. I wish that more ponies had a distaste for violence. The world would be a better place, no doubt._

_I'm not ashamed,_ Derpy corrected, though she hadn't really thought about it before that moment. _I just— You could have broken free any time that you wanted to, right?_

_Of the shackles, you mean?_ thought Cross. _Yes, I suppose._

_Why did you wait?_ Derpy asked. _If you planned on—_ She found the next word hard to utter. _If you planned on killing them, why did you wait for me to say something?_

Cross's gait became a bit slower. _I hadn't planned on it._

_You what?_

His smile disappeared. _I lost faith, little fairy._ When Derpy didn't respond, he began to elaborate. _When I reassured Feather by the campfire last night, I was going through the motions. As large as Feather's doubts had become, mine were deeper still. As I'm sure you can tell by now, she never puts on faces, so it was up to me to put on the brave one._ One of the cart's wooden wheels bumped over a small pebble in the road. _I was tired, to be frank. Years of searching for the Green Pastures had turned up nothing even close, and the promise of finding them beyond the grave became more appealing with each passing day. The only reason that I appeared resolute was for Feather's sake. When it looked like she had finally betrayed me, I felt free of the need to pretend any longer. I thought that my time had finally come._

_Do you still think that?_

The corners of Cross's mouth began to lift once more. _Not at all. You see, by idealizing my own end I'd overlooked something terribly important._

At that moment, Derpy felt a curious warmth embrace her. It reminded her of a hug, although she felt no physical embrace.

_I hadn't found the Green Pastures,_ Cross continued. _But I did find you, Derpy, and you bade me to continue. A fairy entered my mind just as I lost hope and told me to stand once more, regardless of my horrid past or even my despoiled present. I spent a long time looking for the land of miracles, only to nearly ignore the little miracle that practically fell into my lap._ He laughed inwardly. _I would never pull on your heartstrings for a bit of sympathy, little fairy. Before you spoke those strong words to me, I was ready to accept death. After you spoke them . . ._

The feeling of warmth intensified. Derpy felt as if she were surrounded by clean sheets and a fluffy comforter.

_Well,_ thought Cross. _What I mean to say is, 'Thank you, little fairy.' Had you not been brave enough to confront me, I would have forgotten the joy of life and died on the doorstep of paradise._

_You're welcome, Cross._

Cross raised an eyebrow. _You sound sleepy, Miss Hooves._

Derpy yawned. _I think I am._

Cross stopped in his tracks. _Actually, you're starting to sound as if you're further away than before._ There was no response. _Are you there, little fairy?_ He remained still for a few moments, his wings spread lightly as he looked to the open sky.

"Cross?"

Silver Cross brought his gaze back to the path ahead upon hearing the voice of his partner. Feather Quill and Golden Harvest had paused to look back at him.

"Do you hear something?" Feather asked.

Cross smiled disarmingly. "Only the sound of tittering gossip. You don't have to start fighting over me just yet, you know."

Feather's eyes widened considerably. With only a single terrifying scowl shown to Cross she turned about mightily, nearly dragging Golden Harvest in her wake with the apparent intent of leaving her partner in the dust.

Cross resumed his forward pace with a renewed sense of vigor in his heart. _See you again, my little fairy._

~E02 End~


	15. A1B: Locked Room

_Amethyst 1B: "Locked Room"_

Detective Liner stared down at the brutally dented door lying flat in the entryway of Room 208, then turned his gaze to the contents of the dormitory proper. "That's . . . interesting," he muttered in a husky baritone that carried faint traces of deliberate intimidation regardless of circumstance. The room's only occupant was Deputy Surefire, who had already begun turning out the furniture drawers in search of clues. Aside from the broken door, the place was spotlessly clean. Liner turned to Sheriff Badge. "Check with Deputy Warrant and the officers; make sure that the perimeter is still intact." Brass Badge departed without a word, leaving only Twilight and Spike standing next to the Detective.

Twilight cleared her throat. "You'd better get back to the library, Spike."

"Huh? Why?" asked Spike with a mixture of surprise and disappointment.

"Now we don't know where Three Strike is," Twilight elaborated as she stepped around the fallen door. "If she escaped, she may go after Derpy." The unicorn turned about to make sure that her partner understood her seriousness. "Someone has to make sure that she's okay. I can count on you, right Spike?"

Understanding that this wasn't the time to express his dismay at leaving the police work behind, Spike nodded. "You got it, Twilight."

As the violet-scaled dragon darted off down the hallway, Liner stepped around the fallen door. "Smart move, but can he really handle it? Perhaps I'd better send-"

"No," Twilight interrupted. "Spike's been working hard at learning how to defend himself, and he's certainly not a child anymore." She smiled a bit. "I'd actually feel sorry for Miss Strike if she tried anything with him on guard duty."

"Good enough," Liner remarked as he moved to check the windows. "Locked." He gazed about the room. "And no other exits. Magic?"

"I can check for that," Twilight volunteered, her horn beginning to shimmer. She closed her eyes as a glowing pink haze descended over the room. Deputy Surefire jumped at the sight of it, but Liner had a steady hoof on the officer's shoulder. A few moments later, the haze disappeared and Twilight's eyes snapped open.

"Well?" asked Liner.

"Nothing," Twilight gasped, more than a bit of surprise evident in her tone. "There's not a trace of magic in this room."

"Fan-tastic," Liner groaned, pulling the brim of his fedora low. "At least I can scratch 'teleportation' off the list of possibilities."

Sheriff Badge appeared in the doorway. His large mustache shook with the movements of his lower jaw as he made his report. "Perimeter checks out; nopony left this inn after the sighting of Miss Strike in the room. Even the civvy volunteer swears by it."

Detective Liner sighed and rubbed at the top of a short dresser with his hoof. "Stop wasting your time, Surefire. Look's like this place has been wiped down; I'll probably have to call in a C.S.I. unit just to get anything substantial. Now we just have to noodle out how an earth pony left a locked room."

Deputy Surefire sprang up from underneath the bed, holding a small object in his outstretched hoof. He smiled. "Not such a waste of time after all, eh?"

Liner took the small glass cylinder in hoof. It was clearly an empty bottle for prescription medicine. He read the name of the drug from the side label. "Ventium?"

"What?" exclaimed Twilight. "That can't be right."

Liner offered the bottle to her. "You've heard of it before?"

Twilight Sparkle confirmed the name on the label herself before looking back at Liner. "It's an experimental anti-psychotic that they tested at a few mental hospitals almost a year ago. I read about it in one of the library's medical journals."

Liner raised an eyebrow and scratched at his stubble. "So, what you're telling me is that you can't exactly pick this up at the local pharmacy?"

"Not even close," said Twilight, confusion beginning to dominate her tone. "This was only used on ponies with the most hopeless cases of mental illness in all of Equestria, maybe 20 subjects total and mostly criminals at that. What makes this even weirder is that Ventium was declared largely ineffective as a treatment option and disposed of." She looked hard into Liner's eyes. "As far as I know, nopony in the world should be able to get a hold of this."

Detective Liner walked slowly to the window and looked out at the golden streetlights of Ponyville.

"Even putting all that aside," Twilight continued. "Why would Miss Strike have it? She seemed pretty normal, all things considered."

"Two possibilities that I can think of," Liner replied in his husky baritone. "Either our perp's crazy," He removed his shades to reveal a pair of narrowed eyes. "Or she's crazy like a fox."

Sheriff Badge snorted. "Well, thank Celestia that we've got Detective _One Liner_ on the job. Yeesh."

LL

The wooden door to the Ponyville Library's guest room creaked open, pushed by the dull emerald pommel stone on the end of a sword handle wrapped in black leather. The gem captured only the faintest hint of the moonlight that shone from the chamber's round window. The extended arm of a violet-scaled dragon held the sheathed blade against the door. His emerald eyes and angular face emerged from the darkness as he stepped inside.

"Derpy?" Spike whispered, his slitted pupils scanning back and forth. A few moments of silence passed before he lowered the sword and scabbard to his side. Spike relaxed his tense form and exhaled slowly. The soft snoring of Derpy Hooves gave answer to his question. Everything else about the room appeared to be in order . . . with one possible exception. His eyes narrowed when he stared at the comfortable chair sitting by the bed.

Spike breathed in and shuddered slightly, his eyes widening. He sniffed deeply, hoping for another whiff of that pleasant and familiar smell that he'd caught on the air. When his efforts turned up nothing, he dismissed the event and took a few careful steps toward the sleeping pegasus mare.

Derpy lay on her side underneath the comforter with her back to the doorway. The covers rose and fell in steady rhythm with her peaceful breathing.

A blank and observant gaze had been the first expression on Spike's face when he approached. As he watched Derpy Hooves over the course of the next few seconds, his brow furrowed and his mouth transitioned into a frustrated scowl. Spike turned about and exited the room, careful to shut the door with as little noise from the aging hinges as possible. He leaned back against the wooden surface and gave his sheathed blade a pensive stare.

"Get your mind right, Spike," he whispered to himself. "There's no way that anything in the guest room smells like sulfur."

~End A1B~


	16. E03: Cleaning House (i & ii)

**[Morning of Day 16]**

Derpy Hooves awoke in the gentle warmth of the sun's rays that shone down from the round window at her bedside. She turned her sensitive eyes away from the bright glow to the conical spiral pattern cut into the wood of the ceiling, then sat bolt upright, sniffing furiously. She'd expected the usual pungent smell of burnt muffins to greet her. Instead, the enticing aroma of cinnamon wafted through the air, beckoning her to leave the peace of slumber behind and become a part of the day's sunlit glory. Derpy happily obliged the impulse, casting the blankets aside and giving a light stretch to her limbs before rolling to the side and promptly falling out of the bed.

_THUMP!_

"Derpy?" Twilight's voice sounded from the room beyond. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Derpy called back as she picked herself up off the floor. She'd told the truth; only her ego had been bruised. She made a mental note to remember that she wasn't sleeping on the floor anymore before opening the door to the library's spacious atrium. Her eyes scanned the chamber and quickly found the source of the wonderful smell.

Sitting atop the linen-draped table across from the kitchen was the morning's repast. Derpy could not remember the last time that she'd seen such a spread for a simple meal like breakfast. A small tower of oatcakes and cinnamon toast rose from the large plate at the center, accompanied by a wooden bowl filled with sliced apples just to the side. A ceramic sauce-boat filled with honey sat next to the butter dish while a light frost danced across the nearby glass pitcher of milk, indicating the effect of a mild cooling spell. Aside from the food, the table's only occupants were Twilight Sparkle and a stack of file folders to her left. The unicorn sipped at a bowl of milk and brushed back her slightly disheveled hair before turning to Derpy.

"Good morning," Twilight half-yawned. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah!" Derpy replied enthusiastically as she trotted up to the table's side, her eyes positively aglow at the sight. "How 'bout you?"

Twilight rubbed a bit at the dark spots underneath her eyes. "Sure, why wouldn't I?"

Derpy failed to notice the contradiction and stared hungrily at the meal before her. "Can I have some?"

Twilight smiled faintly. "Help yourself; I told you that Spike would make extra."

Derpy gave a small squeal of delight as she set about preparing a plate made exclusively of cinnamon toast drenched in butter and honey. It wasn't until she'd already wolfed down two sugar-laden slices that a further question occurred to her. "Where is Spike anyway?"

Twilight rolled her eyes and pointed to the front door. "Outside with Rarity."

Puzzled by the lavender unicorn's reaction, Derpy got up from the table and took a gander through the wide kitchen window. Her eyes first fell onto Rarity, the white unicorn mare whom Derpy remembered as the owner of the Carousel Boutique. The fashionista tossed her stylized violet hair and batted her eyelashes at the young dragon across from her as she spoke, though Derpy couldn't hear the conversation for herself. Spike rocked back and forth awkwardly as he responded, his face tinged slightly red as he gazed into Rarity's deep blue eyes. It was then that Derpy noticed the small bouquet of roses that Spike held at his back, skillfully hidden from Rarity's view.

"No way," Derpy gasped.

Twilight rose from her seat at the table and looked out the window with Derpy. She giggled. "Yeah, they've been doing this little dance for a while now."

Derpy turned to Twilight in shock. "I had no idea!"

Twilight raised an eyebrow. "Really? It's only the worst-kept secret in Ponyville."

The gray pegasus returned her gaze to the window, shaking her head slowly. "It doesn't make any sense, though."

Twilight sighed. "I've been trying to tell _him_ that for years. Spike's never even gotten up the nerve to-"

"Why would Spike want to eat flowers for breakfast?" Derpy interrupted. "I mean, I thought dragons liked gems and stuff." Her voice and expression became indignant. "And there's even a really good breakfast right here! What's wrong with him?"

Twilight placed a calm hoof on the pegasus mare's shoulder. "I think we'd better have a talk, Derpy."

My Little Pony: Lost Legacies

Episode 03: "Cleaning House"

**[Four Hours Later]**

Twilight Sparkle looked up and gave Derpy Hooves a cock-eyed stare. "That's not possible."

Derpy shifted in place next to the round table in the middle of the library. "But it's true."

The unicorn gave Derpy's posterior another cursory glance before turning back. "You can't get a Cutie Mark in your sleep."

Spike stood on a chair behind Twilight and craned his neck for a better view. "Maybe you've just never heard of it happening before."

"I'm a student of history and biology; I'd know," Twilight replied without turning around. "Also, quit staring at Derpy's butt, Spike."

The young dragon pulled a face, his fangs showing as he did so. "What gives? You're doing it."

Twilight turned her gaze to Spike, more to resist Derpy's infectious smile than for effect. "I happen to be a female professional and _not_ a hormonally-imbalanced male dragon. Sit down, Spike."

Spike complied by whirling around and dropping himself onto the wooden seat unceremoniously. "Yeah, professional female _student_."

Twilight's eyes narrowed. "Last nerve, Spike."

"Roger that," the dragon answered with a wave of his clawed hand. "Shutting up."

Twilight turned briskly back to Derpy only to find that the pegasus mare's smile had widened. She backed off slightly from her position at Derpy's side, unable to keep the corners of her own mouth from turning up in response. "In any case, you're telling me that you don't even know what it means?"

"Nope," Derpy replied cheerfully with a flick of her tail. "I just woke up one morning and there it was - a buncha circles." She raised an eyebrow. "Am I supposed to know what it is?"

Twilight sighed and began to pace toward the opposite side of the table. "Yes, and you should have learned about this in primary school."

Derpy lifted herself onto the seat next to Spike and smiled apologetically. "I wasn't very good at school."

Twilight sat across from her, laying a hoof upon a large scroll of parchment. "That's okay, Derpy; we'll take this one step at a time if we have to." She cleared her throat. "Getting your Cutie Mark is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. It's supposed to happen at the moment that you realize the form of your special talent. Everypony is born with a talent for one thing or another, so having an epiphany about your own is basically the moment that you understand your purpose in life." She tapped a hoof on the table. "It's one of the most important events in any pony's life, and your mind _has_ to be engaged for it to happen. Even if we were to suppose that you had a really intense dream where you came to understand your talent, you'd know it when you woke up. Do you see why there's no way to get a Cutie Mark without understanding what it means? You have to be thinking about its meaning to even get one."

Derpy shuffled back and forth in discomfort. "I'm sorry, Twilight. I don't know what else to say. It was just there one morning."

Twilight put a hoof to her chin. "Okay, let's try it this way. What does your mark look like to you?"

Derpy's eyes drifted for a moment before she responded. "Circles?"

"That's too indistinct," Twilight muttered, mostly to herself. "What would that even mean?"

"Looks like bubbles to me," Spike offered as he put his legs up on the table.

Twilight frowned when she caught sight of the young dragon's feet. She leaned forward and opened her mouth, but her eyes darted to the side in the next instant. She froze in place for a moment, then returned to a normal sitting position and refocused her gaze on Derpy with a bright smile. "Spike might be onto something, Derpy. What do you think? Have you ever tried anything with bubbles?"

One of Derpy's eyes turned upward in thought. "No, I don't think so."

"Not even a bubble bath?" Spike queried with a sideways glance. "You could be really good at them."

Twilight lowered her eyelids halfway and placed a hoof on the scroll once again. "Puerile fantasies aside, I think I've got just the thing to help you find out what your talent is, Derpy." She unrolled the parchment in a single sweeping flourish. The intricate diagram inked into the white paper nearly glowed in the light from a window above.

"Plan?" asked Spike in a slightly insecure tone. "When did you-"

"Wow," Derpy gasped, placing both hooves on the table and leaning forward over Twilight's handiwork. "You did all this for me?"

"Well," said Twilight, "a lot of the details still need to be worked out, but I came up with this plan so that you'd have a chance to try different jobs and find out what you're good at." She smiled broadly. "It works out pretty well, huh? If we focus on things that resemble your Cutie Mark, we're bound to find out what it means sooner or later."

Derpy's smile drooped as she examined the parchment. "There's a lot of ponies on here. Do they all want to help?"

"Of course!" Twilight chirped. "Once they realize that one of Ponyville's own is in trouble, I'm sure that anypony would lend a hoof."

Spike eyeballed an entry about halfway down the chart. "Fluttershy? Really?" He looked up at Twilight. "Good luck with that."

Twilight returned his statement with a mischievous grin. "I might have to twist an arm here and there, but I've built up plenty of favors over the years. Speaking of . . ." She touched a hoof to the top entry. "We're starting with the one who owes me the most. You're up, Spike."

"EH?!" Spike gasped, nearly falling out of his seat. "Why me?!"

"Bubbles, remember?" Twilight answered in a mockingly soothing voice. "What if they're soap bubbles?"

"Oh," Spike groaned, sitting as far back as the wooden chair would allow. "Oh no . . ."

"Oh yes," Twilight remarked as she began to roll up the parchment. "For the next week, Derpy will take on the role of Number _Two_ Assistant with a focus on cleaning duties." She turned to the mare in question. "That okay with you, Derpy?"

"Yeah, boss!" Derpy barked, throwing what she hoped was a smart salute. The noise of her hoof smacking into her forehead resembled that of a wooden plank striking a hollow jug. "I'll do my best!"

"Boss?" Twilight repeated with a peculiar fascination.

"You're not supposed to brain yourself when you do that," said Spike.

LL


	17. E03: Cleaning House (iii)

**[Morning of Day 17]**

Derpy pulled open the flaps of the cardboard box before her and squinted at the contents. Her pupils slowly dilated as they adjusted to the darkness inside the closet. Piles of magazines lay within the box. She cocked her head to the side and tried to wrap her perception around the words and images on the covers.

"Sexy servants," she whispered as one eye scanned to the right. "A short skirt goes a long wa-"

"Derpy!" Spike shouted from the main library. "Are you upstairs?"

"Yeah!" Derpy called back in her chipper voice. She closed the box and shut the closet before trotting over to the second story interior balcony and poking her head over the edge. "What's up, boss?"

Spike stood in the center of the library with his toned and sinewy arms held akimbo. "'What's up?' she says." He sighed. "You're up, Derpy." His eyes narrowed. "As in 'upstairs'—you know—where the work isn't." He held out a clawed finger and made a beckoning motion. "Get down here already. We've only got an hour left 'till we're open for business."

"Roger!" Derpy replied with a bob of her head. She rushed for the nearby staircase and tripped on the very first step. Her mouth dropped open in surprise as she tumbled forward head over hooves. Her wings expanded reflexively to stop her descent but they only managed a moment's glide off the stairs before giving out letting her plummet to the floor.

Spike stepped forward casually and caught the pegasus mare in his outstretched arms.

"Wow," Derpy exclaimed, her hooves held tight against her body and her face very close to Spike's. "Thanks again, Spike!" Her smile persisted under the dragon's withering gaze. "You're getting pretty good at this!"

"It only happens every time you use the stairs," Spike intoned with heavy sarcasm. He deposited Derpy onto her own four legs and snorted. "Who's training who around here anyway?" He pulled a checklist and quill from the nearby table. "Okay, please tell me that you _at least_ cleared the used candles out of the study."

"Yep!" said Derpy as she opened her wings and began testing the joints.

Spike raised an eyebrow and lowered the list. "Really?"

"Yeah, really."

Spike waved the quill a bit. "And nothing caught on fire?"

Derpy stopped surveying her wings and returned her gaze to the young dragon. "Nope." She smiled. "Aren't you proud of me?"

"I am," Spike replied with genuine awe. "I really and truly am." He brought the checklist back up and scratched on it with the quill. "Still, this wouldn't even be on the list if Twilight would pick up after herself once in a while." He turned about and began to walk toward the towering bookshelves.

Derpy Hooves followed after with a spring in her step. "Hey, Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"Why does Twilight leave in the morning and not come back 'till the afternoon?" Derpy's cheerful voice contained only the barest hint of actual curiosity. "I thought she was the librarian."

Spike froze in his tracks. "Well, she . . ." There was a long pause. Spike cleared his throat and turned about to face Derpy, his long tail swishing about on the floor behind him. "She's got a lot of work to do on this job training project, you know?" He gave a half-hearted smile. "I mean, you saw all the ponies on that list, right? That's pretty hard to organize."

"It is?"

Spike gulped. "Y-yeah. Plus, she's still working with the Sheriff's Department on"—he winced and gave a false cough—"you know, something or other."

Derpy's expression went blank for a moment before returning to a bright smile. "Oh, okay! That's pretty cool." She gave a slight tilt of her head. "So, what's next on the list?"

Spike let out a quick sigh before looking back at the parchment. "Let's see, there's only a couple of things left to do. First of which is . . ." The corners of his mouth turned down in a grimace of despair. "Upper shelf dusting."

"Ooh," said Derpy. "That sounds fun."

Spike set the checklist down and grabbed a feather duster from the nearby rolling ladder. His eyes darted back and forth for a moment between Derpy and the object in hand. "Look, I really don't need anything falling down and knocking me out right now. You wanna just hold the ladder steady?"

Derpy's ears drooped. "Okay."

Spike clambered up the wooden ladder, his movements becoming more careful as he neared the top of its three-story height. Derpy latched her hooves around the third step and stared upward with a carefree grin. Her stray eye glanced instead at the roses in a vase on the library's center table. She twitched visibly.

"Hey, Spike?"

The dragon leaned forward to extend the duster into the depths of the bookshelf. "Yeah?"

"Why do you buy flowers sometimes but not give them to Rarity?"

The duster hit a deep pocket of dust bunnies, sending a grey plume of particulate into Spike's face. He shut his eyes just in time, but he still had to cough his way around the offending mess to reply. "I know. Pretty silly, right?"

"It is?" asked Derpy with a tilt of her head.

"Totally," Spike replied. "It's so easy for me to get pumped up, buy some flowers, and make all kinds of plans." His shoulders slumped. "Still, when it comes time to actually _do_ something I'm always wussing out."

"Why? Don't you want Rarity to know that you have a crush on her?"

Spike leaned back and cast a sideways glance at Derpy. "Does anypony _not_ know about that at this point?"

Derpy blinked and beamed a smile back at him. "Twilight said I was the last one."

Spike groaned and returned to dusting. "Then there's your answer. Rarity's got to know what's up by now. Heck, I practically blurted it out myself about a year-and-a-half ago." He slid the duster about with greater force. "If she was interested, you think she'd bring it up at some point. You know, drop a hint?" Spike stopped his movements and stared at the books. "Saying it out loud like this makes it all sound so stupid. I've gotta stop kidding myself." He took a step down on the ladder. "A guy like me doesn't even have a chance."

Derpy's nose caught a whiff of burning pastries. Her brow furrowed. Her smile vanished. "Why not?!" she barked, giving the ladder a sharp knock with her hooves.

Spike yelped and gripped the ladder tightly. "Derpy! Watch what you're doing!"

Derpy blinked hard, the muscles in her face relaxing as she did so. "Oh. Sorry, Spike."

Spike sighed and motioned with the duster. "It's not a big deal. Could you move the ladder to the right a bit? I'm done here."

Derpy slowly walked the ladder to the side on its squeaking wheels. "What I mean is, why don't you just tell her how you really feel?" She put a hoof to her chest. "If somepony gave me flowers and said that they liked me . . ." She blushed and stopped short of her destination.

Spike raised an eyebrow at her.

Derpy glanced up at Spike and began waving her outstretched hoof wildly. "Well, I'd be surprised, but I'd be really happy too! You shouldn't give up before you try!"

Spike gave a dry chuckle and turned back to the shelves. "That's just it—I've been trying for a long time now. And I'm getting tired of not seeing anything change."

A sudden image of Silver Cross with his own sword held against his neck flashed through Derpy's mind. "Then try something new!" she half-shouted, giving the ladder a mighty shove.

The force of the direct impact caused the climbing implement to bounce outward with a clattering jolt, throwing Spike from the top and out into open air. Derpy watched in horror for the brief moment that passed before the young dragon's tail reflexively wrapped around the top step. He swung back, reaching behind with his forearms to prevent himself from hitting the ladder bodily.

Spike's palms hit the sides with a thud. He looked at Derpy scornfully from his upside-down position. "Okay, we're finishing this another day."

Derpy turned her gaze downward and pawed a hoof at the wooden floor. "Sorry, Spike. I just don't know what went-" She winced. "I'm sorry."

The dragon slid to the ground and sighed. "Apology accepted. Just try to think about what you're doing a little more and—you know—about what I'm doing a little less."

Derpy brought her head up swiftly, flipping her mane to the other side of her face in the process. "Seriously though, if you want something to change, then you should do something new." She smiled. "That's what I'm doing."

Spike looked upward. "Huh, I guess that telling Twilight about your problems was something new for you."

Derpy shook her head. "No, I did something new just 15 minutes ago."

Spike looked hard into Derpy's eyes. "What? You were here 15 minutes ago."

Derpy nodded. "Yep! I was upstairs."

Spike's eyes widened. "In the study . . . cleaning out the used candles." His irises had narrowed to pinpricks. "What did you do?"

Derpy rolled one of her eyes. "Well, I figured that she could still use those candles since they aren't melted all the way yet and I wondered why you'd want me to throw them away anyhow." She began to prance in place. "Then I remembered that Twilight wants everything in the library to be really clean. The candles were kinda dirty, so I'm cleaning them."

Spike shivered. "How?"

Derpy brought her hooves to a standstill and leaned closer, her voice descending in volume to a half-whisper. "I was kinda confused about that at first, but the candles are about the same color white that the toilet is, right?"

Spike's mouth fell open. "Oh no."

Derpy nodded proudly. "So, I'm letting them soak in some toilet cleaner for a while. They should come out good as new!"

Spike grabbed Derpy's shoulders and shook her. "Where? Where did you-"

_BAM!_

Spike looked around Derpy to see a plume of white gas erupt from the kitchen sink. Bits of wax bounced to the floor. Two seconds later, the decorative curtain on the window above the sink caught fire. Calm and cool, Spike took his hands from Derpy and walked across the room to the fire extinguisher.

Derpy turned about. "Something went wrong, didn't it?" she asked in a sullen voice.

Spike's voice sounded in a carefully measured tone as he unlatched the safety device from the wall. "Take a break for an hour or two, Derpy." He cast a baleful look back at the downcast mare. "Take it somewhere that _isn't_ here."

LL


	18. E03: Cleaning House (iv)

**[High Noon of Day 18]**

Rainbow Dash whistled loudly. "Wow. Twilight gets you out of one mess and two days later you're stepping right into the middle of another one." She flashed a toothy grin underneath her work goggles. "Smooth, Derpy."

"It's not a mess," said Derpy with a frustrated hooftap. "Spike wants Rarity to be his 'very special somepony.' Rarity might like that—no, she _should_ like that." She pushed out her bottom lip in a furious pout. "I think it's simple. He should tell her how he feels."

The hot sun beat down on the two ponies from high overhead as they worked to repair the damaged third story of the Ponyville Town Hall. Two of the ten exterior walls stood in raised positions, held fast to the structure by temporary support beams. Two more lay finished on the plywood floor along with various pieces of lumber and the assorted contents of Rainbow's toolbag. Both ponies wore safety goggles and had towels draped about their necks.

Rainbow Dash giggled. "Very special what? It's pronounced 'marefriend', Derpy." She waved a hoof and began digging through a pile of tools on her left. "You're talking like a foal again . . . and you're thinking like one."

"Am not!" Derpy exclaimed with a forward lean. The motion caused a trickle of sweat to run down her face. She used her towel to dab the offending rivulet away as she continued. "Spike is a great guy. Anypony would be happy to have him for a very special-" She stopped and looked to the side. "Um, marefriend."

Rainbow Dash pulled a hammer from the pile with her teeth and fitted it into a tool harness on her right hoof. "Okay, let's roll with that for a minute." She leveled the hammer at Derpy with a cocky grin. "Let's say that Snips confessed to you. Would you be really happy and want to be his marefriend?"

Derpy laughed at the sudden thought of the chubby colt offering her a valentine.. "Snips wouldn't do that."

Rainbow groaned and waved the hammer. "This is pretend, Derpy. I'm trying to teach you something; just play along."

Derpy considered this for a moment with a hoof to her chin before voicing her thoughts as they came. "I'd be really happy that he felt that way, but . . ." She gave a light shake of her head. "I wouldn't want to be his marefriend."

Rainbow Dash brought the hammer's head close to one of the nails on the support beam base in front of her. "Now why is that? Is it 'cause he's fat?"

Derpy's eyes narrowed at the question. "No."

Rainbow raised the hammer, not looking up from the nail. "Is it 'cause you think that you're a better pony than he is?"

"No way."

Rainbow Dash brought the hammer down on the nail with a resounding thump. She looked up at Derpy. "Is it because you have nothing in common with him?"

"No," Derpy answered with only half-confidence before slumping her shoulders in the next moment. "Well, kinda."

"Now isn't that interesting?" Rainbow intoned with a raised eyebrow. She selected another nail from the pile and began to work it into the base with a sure hoof. "Keep that in mind while I tell you a little bit about Spike." She tapped the nail lightly to set its position. "He hasn't just been _fawning_ over Rarity for the past year—he's been working himself to the bone. He pulls long shifts at the library so that he can save up bits to take Rarity on dates. He does all of Carousel Boutique's landscaping by himself. He practically works there part-time with all the labor he puts in on Rarity's gem hunts. That's free labor, in case you didn't know."

Derpy's eyes widened a bit more with each addition.

"He's Twilight's live-in maid and personal chef," Rainbow continued. "And ever since that . . . whatever it was happened five months ago, he's gotten even busier. He does physical training with Iron Will on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. He trains with a freaking _sword_ on every other day. Last but not least, he's got something like a social life to manage on top of all that."

Derpy Hooves took a slow breath. "Holy cow. What happened five months ago?"

"Weirdness, that's what," Rainbow Dash muttered dismissively as she hammered down another nail. "The short version is this: everything went pear-shaped, Rarity got hurt, and Spike blamed himself." She put the hammer down and removed her goggles. She toweled the sweat away from her face and looked directly into Derpy's eyes. "That's not the important part though. What's important is, out of all of those things that Spike does, which ones have anything in common with Rarity or her plans for the future?"

"I dunno . . . all of them?" Derpy replied hopefully.

"Try 'none,'" Rainbow deadpanned. "Rarity designs dresses. She's in love with high society. She wants to have a picture-perfect life in Canterlot with a dashing Prince Charming where she doesn't have to worry about all the little things like sales and marketing anymore." She leaned forward. "That 'prince' has a name too. He's called 'Fancypants.'"

Derpy lifted one of her forelegs in apprehension. "What're you trying to say?"

Rainbow leaned back with a sly grin. "I'm saying that all those 'consulting' visits that Fancypants makes to Ponyville ain't got nothin' to do with business, at least not the way you and I understand it." She reveled in the blush that arose on Derpy's face for a moment before continuing. "I'm also saying that Spike missed the boat a long time ago and he's missing the point even now. If you're rooting for him, then you're missing it too. Spike may want to be Rarity's man, but he's just a confused kid at heart and he hasn't got a prayer. It's sad for sure, and I'm positive that Twilight's been trying to help him get over it." She pointed an accusing hoof. "What _you're_ doing is trying to get Spike back on track for some heartbreak, and that's only gonna make a big mess in the end." Rainbow gave a shrug. "I rest my case."

Rainbow Dash's words landed heavily on Derpy's heart. She'd come to work on the town hall today with vigor and verve. She'd imagined herself a fixer of buildings and perhaps a helping hoof in a budding relationship. Tears welled up in her eyes. Was she still the same hopeless pony who'd let her entire life fall apart around her?

"Derpy?" asked Rainbow Dash. "You okay?"

The multi-hued mare's voice sounded distant to Derpy's ears. Another voice, familiar and masculine, sounded much closer.

_I lost faith, Ms. Hooves._

Derpy's expression went blank.

_As large as Feather's doubts had become, mine were deeper still._

Derpy sniffed and blinked away the wetness in her eyes.

_I'd overlooked something terribly important._

Derpy Hooves stood straight up and frowned at her companion. "You're a jerk, Rainbow Dash."

The pegasus mare in question face-faulted. "What?"

Derpy removed her goggles. "Isn't Spike your friend?"

Rainbow Dash glanced to the side. "Yeah, but-"

"But nothing!" Derpy interrupted. She stamped a hoof down on the plywood. "Spike is working hard on something, and all you can talk about is how he doesn't have a chance. If you're his friend, then you should help him instead!"

"Derpy," Rainbow groaned. "Sometimes 'helping' really doesn't help."

The voice in Derpy's head spoke once more.

_I spent a long time looking for the land of miracles, only to nearly ignore the little miracle that practically fell into my lap._

The wall-eyed pegasus mare smiled. "It helped Cross." Her smile grew wider. "I think I know what to do now."

Rainbow Dash tilted her head. "Who's Cross?"

Derpy backed up a bit and spread her wings. "Sorry, Rainbow Dash. I've gotta run an errand." A powerful flap lifted her hooves from the plywood. "I'll help out some more tomorrow, okay?"

"Wait a minute," said Rainbow. She rose from her sitting position and nearly tripped over a piece of lumber. "What're you gonna do?"

Derpy bolted off across the rooftops of Market Square, faltering a bit and knocking a few bricks loose from a chimney as she did so. The white towel trailed behind her neck like a scarf in the wind.

Rainbow Dash stood at the edge of the third story and put a hoof to the side of her mouth as she shouted after the departing mare. "You're just gonna screw things up again, Derpy! Don't say I didn't warn you!"

LL

The violet door of the Carousel Boutique received the full brunt of Derpy's momentum, bursting open and jangling the bell above with fierce clamor. The pegasus mare skidded to a halt on the polished floor and flashed a brilliant cockeyed grin. "Hi!" she barked enthusiastically.

Rarity whirled about from the center of the storefront. Her curled bangs fell over one eye, but the other went wide to match her hanging lower jaw. The look of surprise only lasted for the briefest of moments before a practiced smile took its place. "Welcome to Carousel Boutique, darling." She squinted a bit. "You're . . . Miss Derpy Hooves, isn't that right?"

"Yeah," Derpy replied, her gaze dancing across the racks of clothing. "Except for the 'Miss' part." She turned one eye back to Rarity. "I can see how you'd make that mistake, though. It's a really popular first name."

"I-indeed," Rarity stuttered as Derpy trotted forward. The fashionista brought a hoof to her nose when the sweat towel-bedecked mare passed by. "Good gracious, dear. Do be sure to have a shower before you come in next time. I can't have the boutique smelling like a . . ." Her voice trailed off as Derpy neared the back of the store. "Like a . . ." Her eyebrows went up as Derpy passed behind a black curtain. "Now wait just a minute, Miss Hooves!"

"'_Derpy_ Hooves,'" the pegasus mare corrected as Rarity rounded the corner.

Rarity's smile faded. "Derpy, this part of the store is sectioned off for a reason. I think you'd be much more interested in-"

Derpy pointed strongly at an article of clothing just past Rarity's face. "I want that one. How much is it?"

Rarity's uncertain eyes darted back and forth between the outstretched hoof and the item in question. "How old did you say you were again?"

"I didn't."

Rarity's eyelids fell halfway. "I know, dear. How old are you?"

"Nineteen*," said Derpy. "Why?"

Rarity looked at the dress and swallowed. "No reason."

LL


End file.
